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#it's been years of pain and this whole last month where it's become much more acute and all this visits and i cant take any more

simpjaes · 5 months

Text

FRENZY ៸៸៸ part one

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.

៸៸៸ part two here ៸៸៸ you must read both parts to get the full story

៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader

៸៸៸ minors dni

៸៸៸ wordcount: 33k (part two: 14.2k)

៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him.

៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

៸៸៸ a/n: this was way way way longer than I anticipated it to be but i mean…….it’s slow burn so take it or leave it. anyway, huge shout out to @drunkhazed for not only encouraging me to write this every time I lost steam for it, but even helping me work out some of the details. i hope this fic was worth the wait even tho tumblr is forcing me to post it in two parts.

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press, standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s been days since he left his apartment. The skin around his fingernails have been chewed up, his eyes are red and heavy with sleep, and he still can’t bring himself to move from this spot. Disgusting as it may be, he loves it. It wasn’t like this before but that doesn’t matter too much to him right now.

The spot in front of his window has become his home within the apartment, a place where he can feel weightless and deserving of life’s pleasures. The sun is more bearable like this, the moon is prettier, even the rain sounds better now. The windowsill is lined with empty cans and food wrappers, a pile of laundry has been sitting in the corner since he started settling in this chair, and it’s gotten to the point now that nothing else in this apartment is of interest to him. Sleep comes easy in this chair too, so why move if he doesn’t have to?

He knows his last load of laundry is slowly molding over from not moving them into the dryer days ago, he knows his food is slowly going expired, and he’s aware now that bothering to wear clothes is pointless, they’ll just make the laundry pile bigger. He needs no distractions from this view, save for a quick bathroom trip and sprint to the front door to pick up his food orders. Each moment spent away from this space after five in the afternoon is a waste to him.

How did he get here? How did he get to this point in his life? You. You’re how he got here. It’s your fault for moving into the apartment next door, your fault for accepting a space within view of his bedroom window, and it’s your fault he waits all day for you to come home, learning your schedule day by day.

It started the day he forced himself out of bed. A Saturday afternoon. It was the first time he had the energy to do it after a month of barely moving, given that his recent breakup rendered him a shell of his former self. Recent to him anyway, it had been a year since she moved out, a year was like a day to him though. Time blurs when you’re shifting between resentment and numbness, and he really would have figured he'd have gotten over that breakup by then but he wasn’t. The words she last said to him resonated every minute of the day in his head, “he’s my brother!”, “you broke my phone?!”, “you’re fucking insane, Jake!”

It was a surprise to him that the man in her call log actually was her brother, but still a man at that and he didn’t like it. She was to be loyal to one man. Him. Only him. And she wasn’t, but none of that mattered to him after he got out of bed that Saturday afternoon.

When he stood to his feet and began to dig through his closet for a shirt that didn’t smell like stale depression, it was much the same as any other day when he had the energy to do this. This time though, he opened his blinds and nearly fell on his ass at the warm sun boring through his window at him. He stood there feeling the warmth for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to look around at the lively streets below.

Even through his displeased huff, he stayed looking. If anyone cared to notice, this would be a good sign coming from him. One that shows that maybe he’s thinking about going out for once. Maybe he wants to call up an old friend that he hasn’t spoken to in almost a year and catch up on those lively streets. And you know, maybe that could have happened if it weren’t for the fact that something else catches his eye.

Directly across the street sits a much nicer apartment building, and in his direct line of sight is a large window with opened blinds. Inside, stood you. He didn’t know you at the time, of course he didn’t, but at that moment he instantly knew that he had to know you. It was like slow motion, a rush of euphoria streaming in his veins as he looked at you for the first time. After so long in a slump, resenting and vibrating hate toward an ex, seeing you was like a glass of cold water during a drought. Even from so far away he knew you had a pretty face. Even from here, he knew you’d want to meet him too.

An immediate attachment he felt, to a stranger across the street unknowing of his existence.

And that’s how he got to this point, growing so fond of watching you through that window day after day. It’s been weeks now since he started, and only the past two days have rendered him unable to move from the spot. He’s lucky his parents fund this apartment for him under the guise of him getting a degree that he no longer attends classes for. Because, well, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment with you. He’s growing so planted to this uncomfortable computer chair and barely caring because when you come home at five in the evening every day, this chair becomes much more comfortable to him. Almost as if it doesn’t exist, hell, he’s practically floating when he watches you.

It’s your own fault he’s like this. It’s your fault you leave those blinds open, it’s your fault for walking around in close to nothing within the safety of your own home. If you didn’t want him to watch you do it, surely you would have closed the blinds by now.

You’re practically inviting him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a given that within those weeks of watching you his obsession hit peak insanity by the time he ended up planted in place by the window. Now though, he’s making plans in his head, because he knows it’s not healthy to just watch. He knows he deserves more than just feeling himself up as he imagines being in that spacious apartment across the street with you. By now, the relief his hand offers pisses him off. He wonders more and more every day what you smell like, what you feel like, how warm you must be. He deserves to know.

Such a pretty girl all alone over there, maybe you need some protecting from the other strange men probably watching you too. Jake isn’t strange though, he just likes you. A lot. Enough now to leave this chair in front of the window when he knows you’ll be at work. Enough to actually get up and shower, enough to start working out again in front of that window just in case you arrive home early. Enough to know your schedule like the back of his hand. Enough to clean his apartment, to throw out his building piles of trash, to shave and touch up his grown out hair.

Enough to follow you to the grocery store and purchase the exact things you purchase, cooking later what he presumed to be your dinner and eating it with you there at the window.

It’s gotten to that point, where his confidence is high and he feels as though it’s time. It’s time to stop waiting around but he needs to know more about you before meeting you officially. That’s the only road block by this time and he can only think of one way to do this. After all, he doesn’t even know your name in order to look you up online.

So, its early Monday morning and he knows you’ve got work for at least eight hours and, well, he’s got a fucking need.

He watches you in the window before you leave for work, his room now dramatically different than before. Clean. He looks in the mirror, proud of the way he looks now with his stylishly messy hair and skin moisturized. You’d like him better like this, right?

He doesn’t even grab a bag to bring with him, because he knows if he forgets anything he brings, you’d take note of someone being there. You might become hyper aware, you might find out it was him in the future. There are too many risks in that. So, he just brings himself, which should be enough.

Going outside was an experience as it always was for him. He always feels so out of place and so entirely alone when he walks near other people. Always wondering if they see him too much or not at all. Thankfully, your apartment is just across the street and it’s a quick trip to get inside of the building. He knew the security here is trash, after all, he’s watched this building door for so long by now, that even if he were to be stopped, he’d know how to get inside anyway. He sees the side doors, the ladder in the alley way, all of it.

When he steps inside, part of him almost wants to turn back and purchase a small camera to hide in your apartment. He slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking of that sooner, but he’s already here so he might just have to take note of that for later.

With a polite smile he nods to a single security guard and receives a stern nod back. His insides are crawling with energy at how easy this is, and he feels fucking giddy. As he works his way up, entering wrong floor after wrong floor, he finally lands his feet on your floor. He can tell because he double checks, and then triple checks by looking out of the big hallway windows and finding his own apartment straight across the way.

He smiles wide at the apartment doors, noting the lack of code entry locks and finding simple turn-key locks. This is perfect, because he practiced a skill for this specific purpose. Lock-picking. He hopes it comes in handy as he pulls out his miniature tools.

That practice did come in handy, and he smiles to himself with a near sob of happiness at the sound of what he presumed to be your apartment door unlocking. Intelligent, that’s what he is.

He steps inside and instantly he is dizzy. He was right, he was fucking spot on. This is your apartment, and he can’t help but stand in the doorway frozen at the very thought that he fucking did it. He made it in and now your apartment is his for the next few hours if he so wishes.

The first thing he does is go to your window and gaze across the street. Seeing his own window from here felt surreal, thinking back to all of those nights he came undone to the thought of standing in this exact spot. His body reacts quickly to the space, twitching in his pants at the adrenaline he feels.

If there is anywhere in the world he could be right now, this would be the exact spot. He hasn’t felt this excited in a long time, even compared to when he first saw you and his heart went from rotting to filling with love. It’s hard at this moment for him to turn around and look somewhere other than his view of that all-too-familiar window of his, but he manages. He’s slow to turn around, taking in each breath with intention, every glance burning into his memory. From the open curtains, to the open blinds just behind them, to the dull color of the paint on your walls.

He smiles as he notes that your apartment is clean, almost obsessively so. It’s also much nicer compared to his own even when it was brand new. You seem to like candles, apple and sugar cookie scented candles. He can tell from the amount littered around the open living room and kitchen. The dull scent dragging his senses into euphoria. You also seem to like plants, you like shoes, you like plushies.

He nods as he takes note of everything in your apartment before sauntering out of the living space and toward the hallway. There, he enters the bathroom first.

Clean still, save for a pile of dirty clothes thrown carelessly into the corner. Before he focuses too much on that pile of clothing though, he stares at your shower, taking note of the other scents you’re drawn to before trailing his fingers along the shower wall. Still damp from your morning shower, he presumes. He lets himself feel the sensation of the droplets soaking his fingertips, running it along several areas of the wall before pulling his hand back. He looks at his glistening fingers for a few moments, preparing himself for a new sensation as he places his fingers to his lips. Sucking in the remnants of your shower and humming. Then, ecstatic with the taste, it’s easy for him to balance himself against the wall and bring his face close to a few more unbothered droplets, licking them into his mouth and relishing in the feeling of the cold shower wall against his tongue. His cheeks dampen through the act, and even when he pulls back for a moment, he can’t bear to wipe away the condensation.

It tastes like water, but it’s your water. And as he continues to suckle against the wall, he finally pulls back and places his fingers back into his mouth to suck off any last remaining droplets. His eyes now flick to that pile of laundry. Based on your cleanliness in the rest of the apartment, he assumes you’ll probably wash these later, which is a fucking waste. He confirms in his head the loss it would be not to take something, and so, he plans to.

Fingers still in his mouth, he fumbles with his other hand to shove each piece of clothing up to his face, inhaling the scent of your sleep because these were clearly the pajamas he saw you wearing last night. The scent is dull but he swears he can smell your skin on this fabric and it’s enough to cause another twitch in his pants. His cock already growing heavy and sensitive in the confines of his pants.

Finally, the pair of panties. Worn, crumpled on the floor in a presentation too beautiful to resist. He drops your shorts carelessly to grab at them, his fingers leaving his mouth just to smear across the seat of the garments before instantly he’s sighing out in a soft moan. Nuzzling his lips and nose into them, inhaling for an even longer time compared to the other articles of clothing. It’s as if he’s inhaling a deep hit from a blunt, the scent making him dizzy and entirely hot in the face. He could cry, honestly, as he dips his tongue out just for a moment to taste. Heightening his sensations of you. It was euphoric feeling them in his hand, against his face, in his mouth. Even more so with the scent of them, worn from the day and clearly needing a wash. It was relieving to him in some way, fondling the panties seems to push him further from the reality he’s in, sending his mind into colorful image after image of what these must have looked like clinging to your pussy.

He’s quick to stuff them into his pocket after he gets his fill, forgetting only for a moment that there’s more to explore and that he can’t just sit here all day and jerk off to a single pair of panties. He’s sure you have more for him somewhere. And with that, he moves his eyes to your bathroom counter.

Gazing at your toothbrush momentarily, he fights off the idea of taking that too. Ultimately deciding that you’d definitely think something was off if that went missing.This doesn’t prevent him from touching though, as he reaches forward and runs his fingers along the bristles. Just as suspected, it’s still damp too from your morning routine. The sensation of the bristles along his fingers is somehow more arousing than anything else right now, and it’s hard for him to hold back. His cock is now heavy in his pants, leaking against his zipper and begging to be let out. He holds back still though, even as he brings the toothbrush up to his lips much like your other items. He takes in a deep breath first before licking along the handle up to the bristles. Still tastes like toothpaste, and the taste is far too overpowering to be able to taste you. Still, his hips lunge forward against the counter as he tastes another part of you.

He stays like that for a while, hips pressing forward every few seconds in search of the friction his zipper offers, and your toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he rummages around your drawers and cabinets.

By the time he has searched every inch of your bathroom, he finally places your toothbrush back into its place and stares at it for a moment longer. If you continue to use it, it’s like you’re kissing him. He hopes you like it as much as he does. And just like that, his interest in the bathroom is gone. Excitement bubbles up yet again, knowing that he still has more of your space to explore for his own pleasure. He adjusts his length in his pants and sighs with a dazed smile and leaves the bathroom almost exactly as you left it.

Quietly, he goes further down the hallway. There's only one other room and he just knows that it’s your bedroom, that much is clear. You always keep these blinds closed but sometimes he can see your shadow when you turn on your light at night. This is where he wants to be right now, and upon opening that door, he’s immediately hit with another new scent. Home.

He doesn’t waste his time indulging himself here, throwing himself forward onto your bed, face down, and instantly groaning at the feeling of his sore cock hitting your mattress under his own weight. By this point, it’s weeping with pre-cum and staining his jeans with a large dampened spot. The feeling is so much to handle as he lays there trying to breathe through the raw feeling of how badly he wants to fuck something. How badly he wants to fuck you.

He laughs to himself in the bliss of your scent as he tears up, gripping your duvet and covering his face with it. He breathes heavily as his gleefully aroused tears begin to soak into the fabric. Then, because of course he would, he gags himself by stuffing that very same duvet past his lips. He closes his eyes now, imagining that you let him in, you’re here with him, you’re here under him. The scent of apples and cookies would be drenching the air, your panties would be wet and begging to be off of you. Fuck, he wants to consume these sheets the same way he wants to consume you.

Immediately, he sucks on the fabric with a lift to the corner of his lips, smiling as he tastes the closest thing in this apartment to your body save for the panties in his pocket. He feels like he’s floating right now, and he would be a fool to hold off any longer. He wants to have his way here, hoping that you don’t notice the stains he plans to leave behind. Hoping you sleep on them, hoping you sit your bare pussy against the same spot he intends to fuck as hard as he would fuck you.

He slides a hand down between his body and the mattress and dips into his pants with a visible shiver, finally offering himself relief. Long and slender fingers making their way around his length and instantly he’s unable to keep quiet. His eyebrows lift in relief at the feeling, rubbing his tongue raw against your duvet with his muffled moans, writhing wildly as he begins to fuck forward. His ears are ringing, his finger tips are burning against his own arousal, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so fucking happy in his life than he is right now.

As he continues, his wrist is being rubbed raw much like the head of his cock and his tongue. So many sensations come from the fabric you provide and, god, he loves it. He can’t help it when he aggressively shoves his pants down, allowing his pre-cum to spurt out of him, instantly staining your sheets and causing him to pick up the pace. Fucking against his hand and humping with no real rhythm.

His moans come out in short, muffled whimpers. Your blanket in his mouth makes the sound more pathetic than it already would have been, but he loves the way the sounds echo off of your walls. It’s like he was meant to be in this room doing this. Like this is the only room he should be intimate in, whether it be with himself or you. He wants to moan like this not just because of you but, for you. He wants you to play with him, he wants you to fucking destroy him, mocking his overly sensitive cock until he’s crying.

His mind is spinning as he fucks forward with these images in his head, the scent of you only drives him further and further from the reality at hand. He sobs only a little when he pushes the duvet out of his mouth, quickly replacing that with your pillow. He buries his face into it so hard that he nearly can’t breathe. The lack of oxygen hitting him second by second until he’s gasping for the same warm air that’s being trapped by the plush pillow, his orgasm bubbles up quickly with each jerk of his body.

Faster and faster he fucks into his palm, paying no mind to the burn on the under side of his cock that repeatedly rubs against the sheets. His muffled breath now comes out in short cries of laughter as he feels his release approaching. He chases it aggressively, violently. He wants his cock to fucking ache for you.

And it does, a mixture of searing heat and release hitting him all at once. He can’t breathe as his body stutters against your sheets, his pathetic cock continuously releasing a greedy amount just for you to sleep soundly in later.

Then he just lays there, feeling every last drop leave him and make a home within your sheets and mattress. All he can do is grin as he tries to catch his breath, rolling over and feeling his already-spent cock pulse at the cold air that hits it. He lifts his head to look down at it, noting how red it is even as it softens up. Again, he’s floating right now. He can’t believe he managed to get inside, he can’t believe he has your panties, he can’t believe he’s even tasted you.

Through his blissed out state, his eyes begin to travel around your room as he comes down from his high. Heart pounding still, he realizes he didn’t comprehend a single corner of this room the second he saw your bed. It was like he cared about nothing, it was like he died and went to heaven, and he wouldn’t have it any other way save for you being on this bed with him.

Then, his eyes land on your dresser and he’s careful when he stands up to balance himself, tucking his length half back into his pants and wincing at the sensitivity. Jackpot. Jake’s attention is solely focused on your dresser now, wobbling over and trying to pretend that his body isn’t still shaking from his recent orgasm.

He’s in a world of euphoria again, immediately after having gotten off so quickly within the sheets of your bed, and now as he rifles through your panty drawer, his sensitive cock is twitching with embarrassing interest. He laughs at himself and the way he could probably fuck you repeatedly for hours at this point. Never has he been so ready to come again a mere minute and a half after already having done it once. He holds off though, pocketing a few more pairs of your panties before turning his attention to your closet.

There, he notes the fashion you like, the shoes you have hidden probably for nights out, and…oh.

Sex toys.

He glares at them for a moment, wondering if you only have these because you’ve yet to realize how badly you’d want him to do it for you. This leads him to believe that you must be desperate for touch, for love, and surely he could make you feel better than a piece of soft rubber, surely you wouldn’t need these if you have him, right?

He grabs one with a huff and inspects it for use. Upon realizing this has been well loved by you, he removes the batteries and pockets those too, solely because he refuses any competition when it comes to you. Another mental note to find any and every battery in this apartment so that this toy becomes useless to you and your pussy. After all, you’re his now and it’s only a matter of time before you realize it.

He shakes his head in disappointment at his findings before tossing the toy back into the space he found it and turning his attention to your desk. After all, he’s lost all interest in this closet simply for containing items that offer you pleasure. At least at your desk, he might find some deeper information about you.

And God, it’s like you knew he was going to be here. He smiles, his heart swelling at your kindness of leaving your journal right here in the open for him. Inside is a page bookmarked with what he assumes to be junk mail.

There’s your full name though, glistening in the dark space of his brain that was dying to be filled with information about you. He whispers it to himself, loving the way the tip of his tongue tingles at the act of saying it out loud for the first time. His heart flutters as he runs his fingers along the plastic window of the envelope, repeating your name several times, as if to conjure your spirit up right here, right now, to bask in his post-orgasm glory of love for you.

He’s almost got all of the information he needs with this simple envelope. He knows exactly where you live obviously, your full name, what you like, your favorite scents, and now all he needs is–

He pauses as his eyes fall to the page marked in your journal, damn. It seems to be your most recent entry, and you really let it all out in these pages. His own ex-therapist suggested he start keeping journals too, but fuck no. That’s too much work for him. He doesn’t like giving himself that type of attention either, but thank god you keep one.

Your self written bible, with all the information in the world about you coming from your own hand, your own brain, is right here in the palm of his hand and it’s not hard for him to decide what to do with it.

Just like that, an hour passes as he starts from the beginning and works through your thoughts starting from early last year. Right around the time his ex-girlfriend left him, the bitch.

The deeper into this journal he goes, the more he learns. Intimate things, fucked up things. He almost laughs at your pain, how silly of you to love someone when he was here all along. You had your heart broken, met someone who fixed you, then he destroyed you even more than the first man. Silly you, choosing the wrong people and letting yourself be hurt enough to write about it.

It’s not until he reads what your recent ex did to you that he starts to really feel something. Anger. So much fucking anger that a man touched you like that. He hurt you like that, then left you feeling torn apart and, as you wrote, “dead inside”. The anger is so strong as he grips your journal and nearly crumples the page. He wants to rip it out, to erase it from your life so you forget it ever even happened. You wouldn’t need to remember all of this if you’d let him in.

But he can’t just rip this page from your life, because you’d notice. These are your deepest secrets, surely you’d be on high alert if something like this were to go missing. So, he opts to read it again, and again, and again, searing it into his memory like a mantra of you and your life. A mantra of why you need him, and why the universe is putting you in front of him.

Now, the further and further he reads, the pages are filled by this man who hurt you. He can practically smell the tears you shed when writing these shaky words. Detailing each painful touch, each emotion and moment of dissociation that happened to you during that time. There’s something about the way you write your pain that arouses him just as much as everything else you do.

Perhaps it's the anger of you being taken advantage of in that way, or perhaps it’s because he’s reading each fine detail and wishing he was you, and you were the ex. He wants you to hurt him the way you’ve been hurt, the thought alone is enough to make him fall deeper, and harder in love with you. He wants to feel everything you’ve felt.

In his mind, you’re doing this to him. He wants you to hurt him that way so badly. He wants you to have him broken and crying, with all the power in the world because it’s what you deserve. Because of him, you will forget what happened to you. He will fix you, and you will break him.

The more he reads, the more he fantasizes. It’s not your pain, it’s his now, except he would never tell you to stop. He’d be begging for more, more, more. In his head, yes, you’re on top of him and gagging him with your fingers so he can’t cry out. You’re the one hitting him and taking him for all he’s worth. You’re the one calling him dirty names and forcing a painful orgasm through his body.

The image in his head right now is so beautiful, and it’s all you. The man no longer exists in his thoughts as he stares down at your words, another flash of a smile crossing his lips as he snakes his hand down his pants for the second time, because this time he can’t resist it. The words appear more like an erotic novel rather than your own painful trauma. He finds it easy when he checks out of reality, each drag of his palm up his cock sending waves of warmth through his body with each new word he reads.

He likes the way you write “fuck”, he loves the way you write, “I deserved better.” He adores you so much, he wants you to say those things to him. Even if he would never hurt you, he would be more than willing to let you hurt him, to let you be the aggressor, to ruin him and make him bleed.

His fingers squeeze around his length harder as he feels his legs attempt to buckle. He allows himself to fall to his knees on your floor, gripping the journal like it’s his last life line in this world.

His eyes shoot across the paper and he’s biting against his bottom lip so hard that he can taste the metallic flavor of blood as he takes in every pen stroke. That taste of blood only becomes more obvious to him when he begins to whine at his own grip against his cock. It’s not enough, and it will never be enough until you’re the one ruining him. He grips tighter, bouncing up on his knees to chase the feeling as he works himself up, only briefly losing the ability to read when he rolls his eyes back at the desperate feeling of needing you here with him to hold onto. His entire body is burning up, pulsing aggressively, and yet, still shivering at the cold and lonely air within your apartment.

Then his eyes are right back down on your journal, his hips continuing to chase. He’s not alone, you’re here with him, you are surrounding him entirely right now. This is the air you breathe into, and the gasps he takes with the realization are deep and intentional as he swallows up the air in this room until it feels suffocating.

“Part of me wishes I wanted it, It would have hurt less, I think.” You had written one day last week.

He groans at your boldness, poking his tongue to his cheek with a frustrated moan.

“At least I left the city. Mom told me to change my number too, but I haven't done that yet. I hope he can never find me again.”

Jake smiles with a clenched jaw, because that man won’t ever find you again. Not with him by your side. He will protect you, he will make damn sure that any man who wants you can’t have you.

He edges himself for a bit this time, after having gotten off so quickly before. He wants this one to be drawn out, he wants it to fucking hurt, and it does already. His sensitive length is twitching against the pre-dampened denim it’s being restricted by, his knuckles are red and raw from hitting the zipper of his pants, and the inside of his lip is still bleeding. Finally, he skews his pants down just enough to let his length spring free.

The suffocating air of your apartment wraps around him so beautifully, and once again he’s shivering and letting out a chuckle. It feels so good. It feels so much better when he’s here and not stuck in his apartment. It feels amazing reading your words of pain, putting himself in your position and wishing so much for you to take this frustration out on him.

He edges, and edges. Fucking up, then strangling the base of his cock to prevent orgasm. God, it feels so hot, so good that it becomes harder each time he does it. Again and again, until the shadows of your curtains shift in position, until he feels like his head might explode, and that’s when he realizes he has been reading, sometimes the same page over and over again, for hours and at least an hour more fucking himself.

Surely you’ll be getting off from work soon, but he’s so close. He’s so, so, fucking close to you right now and he can’t bare to end it just yet. The images of your past burns in his gut, and despite being in your space, he truly is so far away. He cannot imagine your face up close, and only imagines the silhouette of you, the shape of you that he’s seen so many times before. Every image is from a street away, and still it’s so unfathomably arousing to think you could use him as your diary. You could whisper your painful little thoughts into his mouth and let him swallow them up, let him erase them from your life.

Take this rage out on him. Hit him. Make him suffer the way you did, he would love that. Giving you such an outlet, and loving it more and more each time.

He fucks up once, hard, and for the last time he squeezes against his weeping cock so tightly as if to prevent himself from releasing. His body can’t take it anymore though, he loses all control even through his tightened grip at the base of his cock. Still, he manages to focus his eyes down at your journal, placing it directly against the underside of his cock, and there, he lets go. Strings of white shooting out past the journal and onto your carpet, seeping in almost instantly as he lets out a long and choked out moan. Raspy and raw, he can barely recognize his own voice.

The sweat on his brow drips down as he shakes through the most intense orgasm he thinks he’s ever had, vibrating moans coming out as pained whimpers as he continues to pump himself empty against the pages of your trauma. Then, he pulls your journal up to his lips in a last attempt to show how desperate he is at this moment. He closes it, licking up the spine of the book before dropping it to the floor in exhaustion.

His mind and body has never been so stimulated by another person. Despite you not even being in this room to physically do it for him, he feels as though he’s just professed a profound love for you and you accepted it. He’s left himself all over your space, marking you, marking his territory, swearing to his shaking soul that he will never let another person touch you.

The only pain you should ever feel again is when your palms sting from swelling his skin before kissing it better.

As he sits, coming back to himself, still trembling from pleasure and overwhelming adoration, his eyes scan further around your room and note all of the little trinkets of personality you like to show to yourself.

A list of movies you’ve watched dangles, pinned on a cork board by your tv, and next to that is a list of movies you haven’t gotten to watch yet. On the other side of him is a bookshelf, containing a variety of novels, manga, magazines, cds, and even a few little figurines of characters that must bring you comfort.

All of these things, the scents you like, the colors you like, the books, movies, shows, music. It burns into his memory the same way you did when he first saw you.

It doesn’t matter that his body feels weak at this moment, his mind will never be calm when he’s thinking of you. These forms of entertainment are now his favorite things. His fingers struggle to pull out his phone, and struggle more to find his notes app.

There, he stays for an hour more. Typing and retyping everything he can see, smell, and touch. Every single movie, every single music disk, every single manga, magazine, and book. He will love them as much as he loves you, and he will be the person you seem to need so badly in your life.

And then, as he glances up to the tiny, bastard of a digital block on his phone, reality sets in. He needs to leave now.

Thankfully enough, you’re right on schedule as usual. He’s crossing the street to his own apartment when he catches the scent of you carried by the wind, and right there, he glances. For the first time seeing you a little closer than usual.

He doesn’t know if you look happy, sad, or exhausted, all he knows is that you’re truly a feast for his eyes as he stares a few moments too long and you make eye contact with him.

Then….you smile.

You smile at him, with a small wave as you walk through the building’s doors with not a clue in the world that the kind faced, handsome, stranger you just made eye contact with was worshiping the very air you breathe.

For him, that smile managed to ignite something else in him that he didn’t even know he had. Perhaps a feeling of confirmation? No, maybe it was validation? Either way, the pep in his step is at least an inch higher than it’s ever been as he makes his way up to his home, and finds himself right back at the window.

He feels satisfied, happy, and maybe even a bit sleepy as he watches you from across the street. Standing where he just stood, disappearing to what he now knows is the bathroom.

With all the new information, surely it won’t be the last or only time he’ll be in that room with or without you. Now, he can meet you as the best version of himself. The best version of the person you would love.

Perhaps now, he can accidentally run into you enough times that you’ll have no choice but to face an introduction, and right then and there, he will be the perfect man for you. You’ll invite him in, you’ll share all of those secrets with him, and you will love him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Buying a camera was easy, and setting it up against his window so that he never had to risk missing a single second with you was even easier. Especially because now he had studying to do.

Movies, shows, music, books, all of it. He delved in for days, living the lives of other people through the media you seemed to love so much. Through all of it, he paid most attention to the romantic aspect of each bit of entertainment you seem to enjoy the most in your free time.

He learns how these men kiss their significant others, he studies how they look at each other and express their emotions. In the music, he listens and anticipates that he can make you feel better than these songs do. In the books, even the horror related ones, he focuses on the emotional aspect and forces himself to learn these expressions.

Love and hate aren’t the only two emotions he should be feeling, but they are for the most part. Save for things like jealousy, arousal, and entitlement. He needs to learn sympathy. Empathy, passion, contentedness, melancholy. There is a vast array of emotions he needs to master, and he can’t help but feel like that’ll just take far too long.

As he is, he loves you. As you are, he loves you. You should love him the same, and you will love him the same. After all, he already loves the same movies, books, and music. What else could you possibly ask for from him, outside of a burning loyalty driven by passion? Outside of never laying a hand on you, nor letting another person within ten feet of you if you so much as blink at him lovingly?

It’s as if weeks passed when he started watching you through the recorded footage. Really though, it’s only been a week because he can still smell the scent of you on those dainty little panties each time he wraps them around his sore cock. They satisfy him plenty when he uses your other, cleaner garments that he took from your dresser against his lips.

Each night since he was in your apartment, he’s fucked into these panties, remembering the taste of your shower water and toothpaste, and each night he grows more and more weary of when he can have more.

Still, these panties are getting him through this difficult period of down time, the anticipation that soon enough, you’ll smile at him again is enough to not jump for the opportunity to get back into your apartment just yet. Because soon, you’ll probably invite him in next time too, maybe even let him taste you rather than a simple remnant of you.

Even your social media drives him to learn quicker. It’s private, of course, and all he has to go off of is that pixelated image of you, your interests, the burning images of your trauma, your name, age, address, and used panties. Sure, he’s satisfied for the time being but he knows for a fact that this “content” feeling will only continue to fade away and be replaced with the intense need to just fucking meet you.

He knows you’re hiding from someone, and that someone just so happens to not be him. So, he’s the one man in the world you could ever hope to meet anyway. A protector, a lover, a fierce defender and an outlet for all of your pain.

And oh, what great news is it that just a mere two days later that content feeling does, indeed, run out! Not only does he feel well equipped to be your forever soulmate, but when he looks at himself in the mirror, still fond of now trimming and taking care of himself, he’s gotta say that he plays the part well on both fronts.

It’s another Saturday afternoon, this time he takes the time to sit by the window and watch the shadow of you through that closed bedroom curtain. He wonders how often you wash your sheets, or clean your carpet, or lose your batteries to your stupid fucking sex toys.

Surely the remnants of him are still there, surely you’re used to his scent by now. You won’t be afraid when he steps out around the same time you do. You definitely won’t think it’s strange that he just so happens to be grocery shopping too, or that he’s needing the same ingredients you are needing. Maybe you’ll like it when he brushes his hand against yours when going for the same tomato.

He’s confident, and he’s ready. That’s for sure.

What he wasn’t ready for though, is how outgoing you are.

Naturally, he smells you before he sees you. Hyper aware that every person on the street that isn’t you just ends up invisible to him anyway. He doesn’t intentionally walk into you, acting as if he’s going the opposite way. Except he does.

The first touch of your body to his is nothing but a mere “accident”. The soft padding of your jacket collides with his hoodie, and still he swears he could feel the blood pumping through your veins at that moment. His entire body erupts in goosebumps at the first touch, he sighs out at the intentional mishap, not yet making eye contact with you.

He falls back only slightly, raising his hands in defense and mock apology. Right there on the street, not even a block from the two buildings both of you call home.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even–” He goes to say, mind blanking the moment he does look at you, and you look back at him.

You’re right there. He can feel your energy hit him in the chest, as if that little collision was nothing less than a car hitting him at full speed. His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your image up close for the first time.

You look….frail. Not like a sickly-frail, but the kind of frail that only comes with emotional baggage. You look sleepy, with your cold cheeks and watering eyes from the icy wind hitting them. So badly does he want to grip you and pull you into his chest. He wants to hold you, he wants to keep you warm, he wants to kiss those shivering lips and hold those shaking hands.

You’re a mere foot away from him and his heart is already exploding. Standing in awe, oblivious to the fact that he has lost his ability to control the situation upon looking at you, because now all he can think about is giving you everything in the world.

Then, you glance away from him and speak.

“No, no.” You look to the ground after that brief eye contact and seem to shy away from the interaction. “I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone.” You continue to stare at the ground, gripping your bag close to you out of instinct rather than fear or anxiety.

“Likewise.” Jake smiles, trying to refrain composure and softening his voice. Still, he burns the image of you into his corneas and memorizes the pitch of your voice. “Hey…” He adds, trailing off a bit and dipping his head to draw your eyes up to him in a friendly way.

“I think I’ve seen you before, do you live around here?”

You pause. He’s just a friendly stranger with a tender voice but the brief glimpse you had of him did seem familiar.

“You seem kind of familiar too?” You question, easing your tense body and looking up at him with another smile, this time more awkward. Mostly because you definitely avoided his question.

“Huh, small world.” He shrugs, offering little to no context to that statement before shifting the balance on his feet and stiffening at the harsh wind that picks up.

This is the moment in which any normal person would say their goodbyes, last apologies, and be on their way. Jake is too in love to comprehend what normal people would do though.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I forgot my wallet at home and was running back to grab it before the market gets packed with college kids trying to buy all of their weekend alcohol. I really didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

God, he feels like a robot saying it. He did mean to run into you, and he didn’t forget his wallet.

“Oh! I’m actually on my way to the store.” You admit, trying to appreciate his explanation and press the idea of forgiving and forgetting. “So you live close by then?” You add, feeling better asking him where he lives rather than stating your own place of residence.

“Yeah, I live over there.” He points at the building across from yours, silently taking a step closer.

The chill in the air is harsh, but the way you don’t move back from him is much softer and easier to swallow as a man on a mission.

When you perk up at recognizing his apartment building, it’s very telling. Well, to him it is, but to anyone else he could assume they wouldn’t have picked up on that slight blink of surprise he caught.

“Huh,” You state casually. “Well, I’m going to go pick up some groceries too. I walk this same way back, do you want me to spot you on your groceries as my own apology for not paying attention?”

Partially, you do this because you want to be alone, and upon meeting this man who is running the same errand as you, you think you may feel too awkward to go through your daily plan running into him again. Plus, he lives right across from you, and you find yourself not wanting him to know where you live.

To him though, outgoing may be an understatement. You’re offering to not only shop for him, but to drop it off at the desk? You’re inviting yourself into his space?!

“Don’t be silly, I’ll just run and grab my wallet and I’ll be right back out. I can help you carry your things. It’s not safe for a lady to be walking alone on a Saturday anyway.” He assures you, stiffening up his shoulders in the wind and smiling at you.

You don’t know how to reject his offer, as awkward as it is, and somehow as comforting as it is. Solely because he just confirmed your silent anxieties about being in this city alone. You do this walk to the market every weekend, and despite you slowly becoming accustomed to the area, you never truly feel safe doing it alone.

Should you reject the offer and go back home? You have enough snacks to last you the night and you can just go to the market tomorrow. And even with those thoughts in your head, you wonder why you nod to him, and you wonder why you step back toward the building behind you and lean against it as if you’ll wait for him.

You shiver at the wind as he nods to you and jogs to the very same building he pointed out before disappearing inside of it, and all you can do is internally panic at how pathetic you are. You should not be inviting this random man to walk with you, or to carry your things for you. He’s going to know where you live. What if your ex set this up? You wouldn’t put it past him for a second.

Then you think a little deeper…perhaps you’re comforted by this man’s calm and somewhat genuine kindness. You’re not amazing at reading people, clearly, but he seems to be kind. Still, you’re too afraid to tell another person “no” these days out of fear that they will be angry.

You’re now hyper aware of your surroundings, wondering if the threat looms elsewhere, or if you just invited the threat to walk you to the supermarket.

You have no choice but to take the chance though, with the way he mentioned that you shouldn’t be walking alone on a weekend. You’d be paranoid with or without a stranger escorting you, especially after returning home from work last week and swearing your apartment felt different. Your anxiety regarding your ex is at an all time high.

Should you even want to reject this small situation of possible safety? It’s still known, to you at least, that your ex hasn’t been able to find you, nor has he texted or called you since your first week of living in this city.

Finally, you decide to just try and relax. If you show your fear, perhaps this man will turn on a dime and take advantage like everyone tends to do with you. Even if you don’t remember leaving your apartment door unlocked last week, even if you don’t remember misplacing your batteries for a particular item in your closet.

You can’t just assume every new, kind, and handsome face is working with your ex. You can’t just let your fear continue to control your life.

At least with this new face, and the security in your building being well aware of your safety concerns, you nor your personal space could be violated inside of your own home at the very least.

Outside though? On the streets with dozens of others? The risk is high, and you aren’t even sure if you have the capability to run fast enough or react fast enough with the little safety keychain you keep in your hand, buried in your puffy jacket pocket.

By this point, you’re more afraid to walk alone than you are to walk with this nameless man. Saying no to him would only result in another evening walk full of paranoia, then again, walking with him still brings a whole different type of paranoia. That is, until he comes running back up to you with that same warm smile, hands tucked into his hoodie, and the promise of some sort of protection at least for this grocery run.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So,” Jake starts after several long minutes of walking with you in silence. “Do you always walk alone at night?”

You nod to him quietly, about to say something before he sighs and shakes his head.

“That’s brave. You must be new to this side of town because it’s not exactly the safest for you to just be wandering around by yourself.”

It’s obvious to Jake that this is only a half truth, but he knows what you’re running from by being here and he can’t help but ensure future endeavors with you, even if just to have you need him each time you leave your apartment. He would gladly walk you to the moon and back if you so much as considered it an option.

“Oh, really?” You respond with slight distress. “I moved here because of the safety ratings. I wasn’t aware that it was an actual concern outside of me just worrying too much.”

He picks up on it.

“Every city is dangerous if you think about it. You know where my building is if you need it though. Just let me know if you ever need someone to usher you back and forth.”

You scoff almost, laughing at the implication that you’d consider that an option.

“Please, that would be so inconvenient and inconsiderate for me to do. Besides, I have this nifty little keychain!” You smile, trying to make light of the situation and the anxiety his words of your bravery are bringing to you.

“That is pretty nifty,” He laughs, eyeing your keychain and watching you put it back into your pocket. “Can’t imagine that keychain would stop anyone though.” He adds with a light and casual tone, only because he knows that the keychain couldn’t stop him. “Plus, it’s not inconsiderate. I’m much more effective than that keychain of yours.”

There is a deep fear instilled in you at his words, ones that make you curl in on yourself internally. Maybe you really couldn’t protect yourself without someone next to you. You slow your pace for a moment and consider his words. Pepper spray, a seatbelt cutter, taser, and a pair of pointy claws won’t do a damn thing for you if you end up frozen on the spot at a threat. Which is something you know yourself to do when danger rises. Perhaps this stranger is right about that, and if he’s offering, maybe it won’t be so embarrassing to actually follow up on that, especially if he proves to simply be a kind and concerned neighbor.

Then again, maybe he’s just being nice and doesn’t want you to genuinely expect that from him.

“Can I know the name of the person willing to escort me to and fro?” You try to play it off as a joke with a sweet and calm tone to your voice, thankful that you’ve become an expert at hiding your fear by now, but he stutters in response. Stopping in his tracks and deadpan staring at you.

“Oh my god, how rude of me.” The same smile, the same soft voice, and now– and extended hand to you. “I’m Jake, and I fully expect you to require my assistance at any time, any day, when you feel it may not be safe for you to be out here alone.”

“What the fuck?” You comment without full intent, reaching for his hand and gripping it in yours.

It’s…delightfully warm.

“Hm?” He perks up a brow. “What was that?”

“It’s like you can read my mind or something.” You laugh, now releasing his hand and feeling far more comfortable walking with him, and possibly accepting his offer.

“I’ve been told that before, you know.”

Good fucking lord, the feeling of you gripping his hand was something that could have sent him straight to an asylum. Cold hands, warm smile, a reluctant tone in your voice– he sees you size him up, and god, fuck, did he see you just accept him for all that he is at this moment. He broke past your first wall, he could see it in your eyes when they flickered for just a moment.

“I bet you have.” You confirm for him, now giving him your name and looking up at him. The dim streetlights and remnants of the setting sun sure do put this moment on a pedestal in your head for some reason.

Your first friend in this city. Surprisingly it’s a man, and even more surprisingly, he seems to be entirely in tune with every single anxiety you have about life right now without even fucking knowing it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The immediate night after you willingly led a kind stranger to the front of your apartment building, seemingly right across the street from his own, was the moment you realized that for the first time in years, you really did feel safe.

Jake, this new person who appeared out of thin air walking right into you and somehow, into your life as well, is safe. With the well-bleached hair peeking from his hoodie, tired eyes, and the blushed cold air on his face doing nothing more than highlighting his features, you didn’t want to admit the immediate attraction to him.

In fact, those feelings of instant attraction are what got you into that mess with your ex. It’s what you’re running from now, and what you were intending to avoid. It’s in your nature to want to be around an attractive person, sure, but is it so strange to lean in so quickly when said attractive person lives across the street and offers you convenient means to feel even safer? You’re not jumping into an immediate relationship or anything by feeling safe around him. You don’t know him well enough, but for some reason, all you need to know to satisfy you is that he’s not out to take from you. He didn’t seem to need or want more, even in those long moments of silence standing beside him in the supermarket.

If anything, Jake, himself, is a new safety measure you intend to use for yourself, even as a last resort. Not because his smile is charming, or his voice is soft. Definitely not because his fashion sense seems to be well thought out, and his clothes hang against his body as if he had a real life filter consistently maintaining that every angle of his face and body remains perfect.

It’s because he offered it. Point. Blank. Period. You, unfortunately, are not in any position to deny that it’s what you need either. You know for a fact that your ex is still asking around for you and trying to figure out where you live. Not to get back together, but just to let you know that he’s around, and he always will be for as long as you live.

So, Naturally, the days leading up to running into this man was a whirlwind of paranoia for you. Nothing that even your heavy doses of medication could calm, yet, he managed to do it on that simple fifteen minute walk to the grocery store, and that somehow quicker fifteen minute walk back home.

That happy shocked sigh he let out at learning you live right across from him, was weirdly comforting too. As if he was just as relieved as you were that he knew he could at least keep an eye on you if you needed him to. Like he would be willing to call you at three in the morning if he so much as saw suspicious activity outside of your building. Plus, you were debating at the time lying to him about where you live just to comfort yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t.

It caught your attention, and you find yourself longingly looking out of your window today, scanning the building across from you and wondering which one of those rooms would be the most safe for you. Your mother’s voice muffled through your phone as your eyes wander, and a smile forms at her words.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to be putting your trust into a complete stranger? Honey, I don’t want to watch–”

“I know, Mom. Really, it’s not like that. I barely know the guy but don’t you think it’s a good thing that I have a neighbor now? One that’s willing to walk with me so I’m not alone out here?”

There’s silence on your mother’s end for a few moments before she sighs.

“It does make me feel at ease, I admit,” She starts, sounding as if she’s going to cry. “I just want you to be careful. And– I want you to tell me things if anything were to happen. I don’t want you to keep anything from me anymore.”

You sigh now, more in a defeated and sad way as your eyes trail down to the door of Jake’s building and notice him stepping out and heading down the street.

“I won’t hide anything anymore. The last thing I want is to go through that again, but I’m healing. Really, every day feels a little better, a little safer.” You back up from your window and smile again, grabbing your coat and slipping on your shoes. “I gotta go though. I love you, Mom.”

You don’t hang up until you hear her say it back, and then you’re out the door to catch up to him. Unsure of why you’re doing it, and ultimately choosing to ignore the fact that you were staring at his building.

Jake, on the other hand, has been reeling for days. Though, more careful now when he watches you. He even moved his camera slightly, hiding it better since he’s caught you staring out the window at his building multiple times.

It’s confirmation that, at the very least, you think about him.

“Hey!”

At first, he thought that voice was his imagination like always. He ignores it, relishing in how well he managed to remember that little rasp you have sometimes when the wind blows like this. Given, he’s only walked with you once to and from the grocery store, the weather was much the same, and your voice cracked a few times in your words to him.

“Jake, Wait up!”

He hears it closer now, followed by the sound of foot steps and….fuck. It’s you. You’re really running after him as he makes his way to the local mall, all to buy the next book on his list from your bedroom.

“Hey?!” He turns to you, unable to control his glee at the turn of events.

For once, after all this time of him watching you, you’re approaching him without prompting and it only took one official meeting.

So naive. You do need protection.

“What’re you doing here looking so warm?” Jake adds, outstretching his arms and watching you pause at the invitation for a hug. “Too soon?” He lets his arms fall before stuffing his hands back in his pocket.

You panic only for a moment, realizing you definitely need an excuse to be chasing him down like this solely because you crave that short instance of safety he offered you once before. Sadly, you have no excuse. You had nowhere to be today, nor any plans to leave your apartment at all and yet, here you are, avoiding his hug and yet still wanting to stand in front of him.

“Oh,” You instantly come up with a lie. “I was running out to the market again because I forgot to buy something.”

Jake perks up even more at the idea that he could walk you to and from the market, and possibly even offer that you come with him to the mall. Maybe this is the perfect time to bring up the book you’ve already read, that he, apparently, so desperately wants to read too.

“What did you forget?” He asks playfully, noting in his head that maybe you’re a forgetful person. Which is kind of cute.

“Uh–” You pause, breaking eye contact and blurting out a random item. “Milk.”

Well, that was a lie and he definitely knows it. He carried that jug of milk that was not forgotten back to your apartment for you. In fact, he hadn’t worked out his arms in a while due to his focus on his abs and stomach that he even felt a little sore due to how long he was carrying it, all while the wind was freezing his fingers to ice for you.

“Ah, should we go grab you some milk then?”

You don’t think twice before you nod, sighing in relief that the lie was taken at face value and not realizing for a moment that you just impeded on whatever plan he had prior to you interrupting him.

“Okay, can we stop somewhere else first? If you want?” He eases into the question, studying your expression and loving every moment of it. Craving to be close to you, even just to stare. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always just grab milk on my way home and drop it.”

Oh, you were being rude. Only now realizing how you eagerly transformed his errand into your errand.

“My god, I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy today, it’s okay. I can grab milk later!” You say in a rushed huff, already backing away and trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment.

You really do cling. Your ex was right about that, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“Wait, no!” He panics, fumbling in a step toward you to close the distance again, feeling far too uncomfortable with how you step away from him. “I’m just headed to the mall real quick to grab a book I’ve been wanting to read. Just a quick in and out, then we can grab your milk. I’ve been wanting to see you again anyway!”

Jake thinks that may have been too forward for any normal person to say outright, but it’s true. He so desperately wanted to see you again. Up close. He needed to see you again.

You pause your step, turning back to face him and unintentionally scanning his outfit that day. He’s somehow even more handsome than he was the night you met him, nose slightly red from the cold weather and shoulders stiffened as if he’s trying to hide from the open wind.

He takes intense note of the way your eyes scan him, and there is an unintentional twitch in his pants at the way you don’t grimace at him. He knew you wouldn’t, after all, he does all of this for you. He’s clean shaved and dressing better because of you.

“Book? What book?” You ask delightfully, being an avid reader yourself. Of course you’re interested in connecting on a level that isn’t just safety with him.

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it but it’s called ‘[redacted]’.” He side eyes only slightly at the anticipated response from you. It was…a bit different than he expected.

You laugh at him. Genuinely, you’re laughing at him, with a snort and all. A laugh that he would argue is cute if it weren’t for the fact that he feels like this could be the first time he fucks up with you. He doesn’t want you to laugh at him for reading this book. He wants you to love that he wants to read it. Its one you wrote on your list, why are you laughing?

“Wait, you’re serious?” You deadpan, standing stiff and shocked. “Even I wouldn’t admit to having already read that very book…” Your eyes trail off before you smile.

You sense that he’s gone rigid not from the weather, but from your mocking and you lighten up instantly.

“I just didn’t expect to meet such a handsome guy who reads about a woman who…well, you know.”

It’s like you could do no wrong as Jake’s eyes tune into yours and you see a sense of sparkle in them. You’d never understand how that simple, off-hand compliment to him is making his heart spiral up, down, and all over behind his ribcage.

Physically, he can feel his body react to you addressing him as handsome. As if he doesn’t react the same way any time you look at him, or speak to him, or come near him at all. You think he’s handsome. You just admitted it, and he can’t help but already feel high, like he’s on top of the world over it. You must like to look at him, much like how he loves to watch you.

Still, he knows he needs to play it cool despite how in love with you he is right now. You’re the one who seems eager, which means he’s done his part for now, and your chase for him is just beginning. If he comments on your compliment, you’d think of him as too eager. Too ready. As if he had some underlying reason to continue speaking with you.

Plus, Jake actually has no idea what the book is about, but he was very willing to find out today when he got home. You, however, seem to be keen on discussing it.

“Know what? I only want to read it because it was recommended to me by someone.” He lies.

Your face falters.

“Oh, was this someone a girl?” You don’t look up, nor do you realize that the two of you have started walking toward the mall regardless of the insecure conversation at hand.

“Ah, well, maybe.” Jake chuckles.

He’s in love with you, he’s so in love with that disappointed sound in your voice when you asked him that. He could even, perhaps, sense a bit of jealousy. So soon too? Already? He knew he was right, he was made for you and he couldn’t be happier knowing that you’re picking up on it.

“A girlfriend?” You pry unintentionally, noting how that book is generally geared toward a female audience who would only ever read a few passages to a man if they were, well, into that sort of dynamic.

“Why do you ask?” Jake encourages you to boost his ego even more, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“The book is about a woman who kind of, kills men and eats them, among…other things.”

Oh, wow. He loves you so much right now, even if you spoiled the story for him.

“Interesting. What makes you think my girlfriend would ask me to read that?”

“It certainly wouldn’t be a brother or best dude friend recommending it to you, let’s be real.”

Jake raises his hands in mock defense, ready to see if this makes you like him even more.

“Alright, I’ll admit. I knew what it was about–” He’s lying. “No one actually recommended it to me, I just didn’t expect you to have already read the book, nor did I expect to have to explain myself why I want to read it.”

“Explain away, Jakey, we got a bit of a walk ahead.”

A nickname?! Already? You're entirely naive and in need of him being beside you. God, what would have happened if some other cunning liar appeared to walk into you and offer to escort you back and forth? You would have swooned the same fucking way! Anyone with eyes can see that you’re flirting, and anyone with a dick can see that he’s eating it up faster than you’re able to put it out for him.

Regardless of if you seem too quick to trust, he’s proud that it’s him who got to you first, because now no one else will ever get the chance to even consider it.

“Oh, I’ve got a nickname now? That must mean you like me.” He offers you a sort of drunken dopey smile, only because he feels drunk. Like a lost puppy just invited into a warm and caring pair of arms, really.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re the one going to fulfill your fantasies about–” You try to joke as if he’s one of your best friends from highschool. You remember when you were able to freely have a sense of humor, but before you can finish your joke, you pause, realizing that despite mocking the book and his interest in it, you still don’t know him on a level to do this. Nor should you have given him a nickname so soon. God, how stupid could you be? “Nevermind, I actually have the book if you want to borrow it.”

You have issues getting too close, too fast. You’re already clinging, watching his building without full intention, and chasing after him down the street simply to speak to him. You don’t know where this feeling inside of you comes from but you can argue that it’s solely due to the comfort he brings to you. You don’t know anyone else in this fucking city save for a few co-workers. When you moved here, you promised that you’d keep to yourself until you heal and feel safe on your own again.

Yet, here you are. Clinging to the handsome man who lives across the street. Clinging to a fucking man. Again.

And you know, even though the two of you are already halfway to the mall by now, he doesn’t mind that you didn’t bring up borrowing the book until now. He was prepared to buy it, and even more prepared to see where your eye wandered just to learn about more of your interests within the rows of books.

“Really?” He smiles and tilts his head at you, turning both of you around with a gentle touch to your arm, very nearly wanting to snake his hand into your pocket and hold your fingers against his. “That’s great, let’s go get you some milk then!”

And you know, when he waited in the lobby of your apartment, you almost invited him upstairs to your actual space. You didn’t though. And when you handed him the book, and he handed you that milk, only then did you realize that one of the jugs of milk in your possession will have to spoil…and it sure as fuck won’t be the one he just handed to you.

Why? Because you create silly little attachments to the rare moments in your life when you’re happy. This jug of milk is a representation of a lie he accepted, as well as him accepting you and your silly ways of making it through the day.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The panties.

The scent is dull as he reads and rereads passages of a book that many would consider improper for anyone to even write, let alone publish. Every victim is him, and everyone, everything else is you.

It’s hard not to be aroused when you so readily invited yourself to be around him that day. Even now having your number, the self control he needs to not frantically text you that he’s in love with you is eating him from the inside out.

The panties. Still offering the most private part of you but no longer being enough. The camera, offering glimpses of your alone time within a space you don’t quite realize has been shared with him. The taste of your shower wall, your toothbrush, the smell of your clothes, the softness of your sheets, and the trauma within your written words— none of it is enough anymore.

And now, the book, offering plenty to the imagination, turning the pages as if he were playing with your skin, still not enough to satiate him any longer. Nothing could ever satiate the need within him to love you to his full extent or to have you love him back. Especially after having already met you, after feeling your hand against his in that brief handshake, after hearing your sweet voice say words for him to hear and him alone.

Has he not waited long enough for more? He’s seen you up close and personal, he knows all of your interests that you display, he knows your voice, knows your footsteps— still, he can’t get the feeling out of his mind. What it felt like to stand in the spot within your apartment that ultimately led to his even deeper love for you. His confirmation that he loves you, even.

And now? Texting is easy when he feels this desperate to get to you again. He doesn’t care to be overwhelming to you because he is overwhelmed. You’re the one who approached him last time too, so if anything, the universe is on his side and he fucking knows it. He can feel it in the air with each little breeze that flows past that little crack in his window. He can smell your shampoo with each cold gust of wintery air, and see your reflection in each little snowflake that falls.

He wants you to chase him again, so bad. Only so that he knows he can chase you harder now.

Jake: hey so i read the book, are you free today?

The way you immediately respond is telling.

You: what did you think? insane story, right?

Jake: not sure if you wanna have this conversation over text…

You: it’s ok, i figured you had some freaky fantasies if you wanted to read that, im not gonna blackmail you or anything

Jake smiles, he’d let you blackmail him any day of the week.

Jake: hmmm what does that say about you then?

You: anyway, im a bit busy today but maybe we can catch up tomorrow?

No, no no. Tomorrow is centuries away. He knows you’re home, he can fucking see you over there, he can smell you, he can sense you. Not to mention, he’s not an idiot, he can see the way you avoid certain conversations and steer the direction despite making the same joke yourself.

Silly, silly girl, thinking he can’t read you. If anything, he’d think by now that if you’re really so afraid of the world, or him, or anyone else, you’d have closed those fucking blinds by now. You haven’t though, have you?

Maybe you know people watch you. Maybe you love it, hoping that he’s the one doing it. Maybe you’re some sort of exhibitionist. Maybe that’s the reason you read that fucking book. Maybe that’s why you were trapped in your relationship before.

There has to be a reason for it at the end of the day, and he hopes that it’s him. You love his jokes, and your avoidance is only further proof that he’s breaking past your little sad and pathetically thin walls. You’d probably love to know he watches you, that he protects you even when you don’t think he’s around.

And yet, you’re busy today?

Guess he will be busy too, then, as he stands to his feet and begins to dress himself while texting you.

Jake: Oh, you’re busy? That sucks, i guess i’ll find somethin else to do today then

You: I know :( ill make it up to you soon, promise!

The buzzing in his brain and need for you is too strong to stay away. That little promise means the world to him, especially because you’ll be making it up to him sooner than you anticipate. You can be busy all you want, but that’s not to say he can’t accidentally end up at the same place as you, right?

Besides, what if your ex comes around? What if some guy gives you unwanted attention and there’s no one there to defend you? After all, his body reacts with euphoria each time he has gotten the chance to be with you, and he craves that feeling once again. You’re going to give it to him, not anyone else.

Jake: alright, be safe today...

You: always am!

Jake: text me when you make it home safe

You freeze as you read his words, feeling something in your stomach flip. You can’t tell if it’s butterflies or anxiety. Still, you find yourself smiling and your face feeling a bit fuzzy.

He wants you to be safe. That’s more than you could ever ask from someone, because god knows you’ve always managed to find yourself in the most unsafe situations with very little effort.

You: ok!!! ill text you when i get home so you know I didn’t get run over or something

Jake: it’s more just to make sure someone doesnt kidnap and take advantage of you lol

You freeze again, this time fully aware of the anxiety in your belly.

Jake: pretty girls like you gotta be more careful, so don’t stay out too late or ill worry

For a second, you almost wanted to cancel your plans. For just a second, you felt good today. You felt safer than usual.

You: i’ll come home before sundown….thanks

Jake smiles, hoping you recognize the risk you put yourself in each time you leave your apartment without him beside you. Thankfully though, you will never be without him again if he can stand it.

Besides, you suck at safety. Following you around is far too easy, and popping up when you least expect it is even easier.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Spotted you.

There you are, with that same puffy jacket he’s grown used to seeing you in considering he only ever really gets to see you outside and on a cold day. In that puffy jacket, you’re walking into a local coffee shop and his eyes sharpen at the image of you through the window.

The barista takes your order with too much interest, in his opinion. He can see you not take notice on how everyone in this city wants to take you from him. He wants you to notice so bad, he wants you to only want his eyes on you, and to only want his voice in your ear.

He breathes in the icy air, bottom lip shivering only a little bit at the idea that other people look at you the same way he does, even more so the fact that you might be here to meet someone that isn’t him. You might have friends, and he knows better than anyone that you do not need friends. They’re always out to get you anyway, you should be here with him, not someone else.

He breathes a sigh of relief followed by a heavy shiver when he sees you take a seat alone, and he dips away slightly when you glance out of the window as if you’re trying to be aware of your surroundings.

With him around, you don’t need to pay attention to the things around you, he’s hyper aware for you. He could tell your coffee was finished before your name was even called to alert you.

Honestly, he’s so hyper aware of each person who walks into that coffee shop after you. He sets themself up for failure in his head. Each person gets a stare of daggers, because what if they’re here to meet you? What if you’re trying to make friends? What if you’re trying to date? After all, this little errand must be important to you considering you told him you were too busy to see him.

His eyes continue to fall back on the barista though, staring at the line of sight this man offers to you every few moments. As if he wants to catch you looking at him too, as if he wants you to give him a reason to talk to you, as if he is a better option than Jake himself could be.

There is a hate within him at this moment as he seethes outside of the cafe window, staring down his competition. He almost completely forgot to look at you until he felt a rush of air push past him and he notes two people walking into the cafe now.

As he comes back to reality and leaves his little realm of hate for the handsome barista at the counter, his worst nightmares are confirmed. Not only a woman walks in and takes a seat at your table, but a man too. You hug them. You hug him.

Why is everyone all over his girl today? His heart drops. His quivering bottom lip intensifies with the wind, the temperature mimicking the feeling in his heart as he watches you touch other people, and spend time with them. He really, really, needs to know who these people are and why they’re close enough to hug you like that.

He pats his chest through his hoodie with a breath in an attempt to rid himself of the stress weighing on him, and then straightens out his back before taking one last deep breath and making his way inside of the cafe, straight up to the counter.

There, he tries to balance his breathing as he makes eye contact with the very same barista that keeps pushing dangerously close to a boundary line. His name tag states the name “Jay”, and Jake can’t help but grimace and roll his eyes at how similar their names are.

He grimaces more at hearing the man speak to him, as if he has all the right in the world to exist on the other side of that counter after staring at you the way he did.

“Sir? Can I–” The barista repeats himself for a third time, feeling small under the gaze of the customer in front of him.

“Just a shot of espresso.” Jake dead-pans, still glaring at the man.

The barista nods awkwardly, shifting his eyes to you on instinct now that he’s done it probably a million times since you’ve walked in. He’s noticed you for weeks, he can’t help it.

Jake, on the other hand lets out a deep and angry sigh from his nose as he tosses his card onto the counter, clearing his throat at the barista.

“You seem to have an eye for girls.” Jake lightens up, holding up the short line of one person behind him.

“Oh–” The barista laughs shyly, “am I that obvious?” he adds, dipping his head down as he slides the card through the machine and turns the screen back to his customer.

“Unfortunately.” Jake narrows his eyes at him, intentionally and violently clicking the number 0 for this asshole’s tip. “and I’d suggest you contain yourself, because that’s my girlfriend you’re drooling over.”

And then he walks away, ignoring the way the presumed “Jay” looks at him in embarrassment. He can tell he wants to apologize, and rightfully so. Jake does deserve an apology for how shameless this idiot was, but he doesn’t let him as he makes his way down the counter leans against it with his palms, facing away from you and pretending he can’t sense your warmth from here.

And then he starts counting in his head.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…..Thirteen….Twenty si-

“Jake?”

His heart immediately swells at the way you’d recognize him anywhere, even if he’s facing away from you and he makes sure to make eye contact with the barista when they both perk up at your voice calling out a name. He watches the confirmation in Jay’s eyes click, the confirmation that he is never to look at you again.

And still, Jake’s heart swells even more in this instance because he could recognize you too, even if you’re faced away from him. Still, he has to keep his cool. One, to make sure he doesn’t appear too eager to see you, as if he definitely followed you here. Two, so the barista doesn’t see his lie. And three, so he doesn’t snap right here, right now over the fact that you hugged someone that isn’t him. Two someones that aren’t him.

He doesn’t want to interrogate you so immediately, he wants you to give him the answers yourself as to who these people are.

He pretends to not hear you as he stands facing away from you and grabbing his espresso from the barista who avoids eye contact.

Jake gives a small and fake nod to the barista, as if to show you that he didn’t say anything out of pocket to him. As if to show you that he definitely didn’t just claim you as his girlfriend so the freak behind the counter doesn’t try anything with you.

Then he turns to eye the room, looking for an empty seat, avoiding the corner where you’re blatantly staring at him.

“Jake!” You wave your hands to get his attention, standing up half way as if to stand out from the crowd of puffy jackets and warmed cheeks.

His eyes land on you, where they rightfully belong and he notes the smile on your face upon seeing him.

Oh, so you did want to see him today. You didn’t smile like that at the barista, or to the people in front of you. There’s another confirmation within him in reaction to this, that soon enough, what he said to the barista won’t be a lie. In fact, it gives him the confidence to push for it now more than ever.

He raises a brow in mock-surprise to see you before shooting you a half wave, moving his eyes to other areas as if to imply he doesn’t want to intrude. As if to say he isn’t here with you intentionally.

And then you wave again, raising your voice a bit and saying his name yet again. His eyes land back on you, and the way you pat the seat next to you.

Perfect. Yes, invite him. Prove to everyone who you belong to. Prove who it is you want to see right now, who you want to sit by, who you want to look at. And then, tell him who the fuck these people are. Explain why you hugged them, and why they’re somehow more important than he is.

As he heads over, bowing politely to the man and woman sitting across from you, he seats himself next you to closely. So close that he can feel the friction of your jacket against his hoodie, and immediately his skin is raised in goosebumps as he looks at you and your bright eyes.

He wants to lay claim to you so badly. He wants everyone to know that you are his, and he is yours.

“Such a huge city and still we manage to run into each other–” Jake chuckles playfully, looking at you with a soft and gentle smile before glancing at these strangers across from him. “If we keep meeting like this I might just have to ask you on a date.”

He says it like it’s final, like he’s laying that claim he wants so badly. As he says it, he looks the man that you’re with dead in the eye with exuding charm and confidence. Still, the way you shift awkwardly next to him doesn’t go unnoticed as he turns back to you and takes a sip of his drink.

“Would that be something you’d be interested in?” He whispers gleefully to you, saying it as if it’s a joke because the people across from him lend you both a smile and a laugh at his blatant and forward words.

“Jake, this is my mom.” You finally speak out to avoid his question, watching him attach his lips to the hot cup of espresso he ordered, as if to only breathe in the warmth of it. “And this is my uncle.”

Jake immediately stands and bows politely. He appears panicked, embarrassed, to everyone else in the room. He’s not though. Not at all. He is relieved to know that now is his chance to make some sort of impression, now is when he should show his best side. All worry of who these people in front of you are is thrown out the window for the time being, actually. He feels like he’s on top of the world, killing two birds with one stone almost. Or three, if you count Jay.

If he can get your family to like him the same way he got you to like him, maybe you’d be more inclined to circle back around to his half-joke of taking you on a date.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stutters, not looking the two in the eyes. “I must have sounded so rude just now, I didn’t mean to intrude–” He continued, only to be cut off by your mother.

“Don’t mind us, Jake, is it?” She says kindly, glancing to you and then back at Jake. “You must be the boy with the pretty smile who she mentioned the other day.”

Jake does take note of your mother’s reluctance to accept him immediately, and given your past, he guesses that would make sense. Her kind words and smile does not match her eyes when she speaks to him initially, but he’s going to change that now.

Besides, his heart just grew four sizes bigger at your mother outing you to him. You said you like his smile? You said it’s pretty? Fuck, he’ll show you pretty.

“I can only hope so.” He responds, turning to you and smiling even bigger, noting the way you curl in on yourself in discomfort at the awkward situation. “Always so shy, don’t worry, I think your smile is even prettier.”

And then Jake trails his eyes to your uncle, proud of the way he felt you shiver at his words.

The man simply judges him, then looks at you with a raised brow.

“Jake helped me carry my groceries, he lives across the street from me.” You say, feeling stupid and small in the way your mother just fucking embarrassed you in front of the only person you like being around in this city. Still, that judgment from your uncle is called for, you think, and you’ve got to calm his worry for you somehow.

“Couldn’t just let her carry all that back herself, afterall.” Jake shrugs. “I was raised to know better.”

Both your mother and uncle nod, going silent for a few moments.

Then, as if Jake isn’t even here, your mother prompts the conversation that the three of you must have been having before Jake came over.

“So, have you decided yet?” Your mother asks with no context for Jake to pick up on.

“Yeah, actually–” You look down, then slightly press your leg against him from under the table.

As much as you’d prefer this rather telling conversation not to happen in front of Jake, you reluctantly speak in a way that gives little to no context.

His heart explodes at that simple touch though, ears going deaf from any words you’re saying anyway, and he very nearly shoves his hand under the table to place upon that very same leg.

Somehow, he holds back, his hand shaking inches above your leg before forcing it back into his own hoodie pocket.

“I’d like to stay here.” You say confidently now, looking at both your mother and uncle.

Your mother nods with a smile, your uncle following her reaction.

“I think I feel safe enough for now.”

Jake wants so bad to confirm that you’re safe with him, despite knowing exactly what you’re talking about within an instant when he definitely shouldn’t know.

“Well, you know there’s always a room at home for you if you need to come back–” Your mother seems reluctant to say too much, looking over to Jake with a smile that becomes more genuine. “Keep an eye on her, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

He knows you’d appreciate it and he has gone above and beyond in terms of keeping an eye on you. It’s like, he’s fucking perfect for you.

Jake nods to her.

“I’ll do my best.” Jake smiles, now shifting his body up and standing back to his feet. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone.” He continues, now looking at you. “Text me when you get home safe.”

And as he walks away with a triumphant and hidden smile, your mother immediately smiles at you in the same way. Seemingly lightening up about Jake as a whole, briefly anyway.

“Text him when you get home safe, huh?” Your mother pries, kicking you gently under the table and watching you squirm and release the blushing mess that you’ve tried to hold within you for the past few minutes.

“Ah, yeah, um–” You try to speak, unable to explain the safe feeling you feel around Jake. You’re not sure if it’s a crush, or if it’s just you taking advantage of someone who is being kind. “He’s kind of already been watching out for me, so that's partially why I’m choosing to stay here.”

Your mother nods.

“I can admit that he’s cute–”

You nod to yourself at those words before your uncle interrupts.

“And polite.” he adds, sipping his strong coffee and offering a look of possible approval.

You dead-pan stare at both of them, knowing exactly where this conversation is going.

“He likes you.” Your mother continues shortly, looking away from you and not allowing you to hush her of the motherly-instinct. “I’m just saying, honey, please be careful. I know he’s cute, and polite, and seemingly safe. But I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You look down with internal confirmation.

“It’s okay to live a little, go on that date with him, but go somewhere public first.” She continues. “Don’t move too fast, you’re still–”

Everything is overwhelming in this moment. Especially when the truth is put into words and offered to you by the two people you trust most.

“Healing.” You look down at the table as you finish her sentence for her, thinking of how close Jake was sitting next to you. Wishing he was still next to you because somehow, you felt more safe with him than you do your own family right now.

“Don’t sit there and act like I don’t know how you act when you’re being shy about a boy…” Your mom adds to the silence, quirking a brow and looking to her brother. “You’ve still got your pepper spray if you need to use it.”

“It’s not that I’m worried he would like, be like him.” You interject. “ I just don’t know if I’m ready to act on a stupid crush so quickly.”

“That’s good, and I’m glad he makes you feel safe. Just please hold onto that feeling, don’t rush just because a cute boy is carrying your groceries.” Your mother starts again, only to be cut off.

“Okay, okay. Can we talk about something else now?” You roll your eyes.

Your mother keeps to herself after this, and all you have in your head is wondering how and why your mother seems to partially advocate for this man after a mere ten minutes of meeting him. You can see her try to keep you safe despite her distance from this city, yet she seems to be hoping that Jake is a legitimate defense system for you too. It’s as if she’s looking for comfort in him as well.

She’s never been one to approve of your crushes either, but somehow, this time is different. And these days? You trust her intuition better than your own.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i made it home safe

Jake: good, im really glad. sorry for accidentally ruining your plans today

God, if there’s anything Jake should be sorry for, it’s not that.

You: it’s ok, i was happy to see you.

You: my mom seemed to like you

Jake’s cheeks burn reading that as he goes from staring out his window to looking at the screen of his phone. He can tell that as soon as you got home, you headed for your bathroom and you must be in there right now readying yourself for your evening routine, possibly even naked before a shower to text him.

It’s not strange at all that he knows you’re over there all alone, texting him. His body reacts like it always does, and he’s already snaking a hand down his pants just to rub against himself to satiate his body and keep it under control for a bit longer.

Jake: woah really? how so?

You type to him almost immediately after each of his responses.

You: idk, they commented on how you asked me on a date or whatever, thinking it was serious.

Jake: i was serious

You pause, standing at your bathroom sink with your toothbrush in your mouth when a smile creeps across your face. It feels like the first time you ever got asked on a date in highschool, and that little dance of happiness would have been fucking embarrassing if he were to see it.

Even worse than your reaction to that, your mother would be terrified to know how you shift entirely when you’re alone and talking to Jake. She would faint knowing that you intend to immediately go on a date with him, and she would immediately wake up and faint again knowing that you find yourself letting your guard down entirely around him as well.

It’s safe to say that, maybe you definitely have a crush on him. Why else would you react this way to how forward he is? Why else are you somehow so willing to go on a date with him despite wanting to stay as far away from relationships as possible?

Why is he so fucking irresistible? Why is he making you feel this way?

You: you were?

Jake: yea, what are you doing rn?

He’s typing with one hand, legs spread wide while he slouches in his chair and skews his head to stare through your empty window. He thinks back to the day he stood in your living room looking down at his own window. You could come into your living room now and watch his body jerk with each movement of his palm against himself, phone in hand as he texts you and know exactly what you do to him.

Each passing moment between his last text to now doesn’t bother him as he works himself up, chewing on his bottom lip and focusing even more on that lit up room across the street, feeling the familiar arousal bubble in his belly as he rips his hand away to grab that same pair of panties he stole from you. There, he shoves them down his pants along with his hand, groaning at the fabric stretching around him like they always do.

So soft, so gentle.

As for you though, you’re feeling the panic flow through you as you stare in the mirror at your reflection. Right now? He wants to go right now? You just washed your face, and you were about to take a shower.

You: bout to take a shower, why?

He groans more at your typed words, remembering the taste of that shower wall, imagining your pretty face with little droplets of water running down it. Imagining droplets of other things running down it. God, his confidence is so high, he’s so fucking horny right now, and he still manages to text you with that one shaking hand.

Jake: ill come get you right now, i want to go on a date with you

Jake: can i?

His persistence shows his interest in you and it’s so attractive to you right now. Immediately you find yourself spitting, rinsing your toothbrush, and wiping your mouth clean before opening your makeup box again.

You: right now?

Jake: right now.

You: can you give me like twenty minutes?

There are explosions surrounding him right now, or rather, a very intense orgasm. He scored a date with you and he feels the confirmation run straight through his body and out the head of his cock, all over your panties, his hand, and his pants. And god, he’s a little frustrated that he spent so long trying not to get his own cum on your panties, solely to keep more of that scent of you, but he fucking got a date.

Who cares? He can surely just snatch another pair, possibly right off your legs.

After all, you asked for twenty minutes surely to try and look nice for him. Fuck, that means you want him to look at you the way he always has been. He wonders if you’ll do something different with your makeup, or if you’ll put on a different kind of outfit. All for him.

Finally for him. For him. For him.

Jake: of course, text me when you’re ready

And then, he just watches as his body makes an attempt to relax. The way you wisp back and forth like a ghost through your apartment, rushing to find something to put on. Even from here he can see you smiling. Running around in a bra and panties, he moans slightly, almost considering fucking his cum into your panties again but ultimately choosing to stand and change him. Mostly because he sees you think hard about your outfit. The way you throw on a shirt only to take it off and slip on a dress instead, despite the cold weather.

He’s going to give you that same effort, eyes glued to his window as he blindly searches his closet by touch alone.

He wants to text you again after you run your hands down your stomach in that dress you put on, he wants to tell you to keep it on. He wants to tell you how pretty your matching pair of bra and panties look under it. He wants to say so much, do so much, and containing it is so fucking hard.

Yet, still, he manages.

When you stand in your living room, that same dress still on, he watches you throw a jacket over it, he can’t help but wonder if you could sense his hope that you’d wear that. He wants to have a reason to keep you warm, a reason to put his palms on your legs to warm them up, a reason to be close to you. After all, this is a date, you’re inviting him to be close to you, right?

And then his phone buzzes and he struggles to tear his eyes from the image of you standing there with your phone in your hand.

You: okay, im ready!

Jake immediately sighs, staring up at the ceiling to get his body to calm down. His dick is twitching wildly in his pants again, his hands are sweating, his entire body is vibrating. It’s finally happening.

You’re going on a date with him, and he’s had the perfect place planned and in his mind since the first day he met you from your window.

He’s quick to throw on an outfit, slip on his shoes, and run out his door.

Jake: on my way outside now, meet me in your lobby in 5

You’re fucking beaming. For the first time in a long time feeling like you may be the luckiest person in the world. There is no pain within you as your butterflies overtake every amount of angst you had about meeting someone under circumstances of dating.

You’re here to get away from your ex, not to fucking ban yourself from having a good time. You want to have fun. You want to stop being afraid.

And god, Jake is like, the perfect guy for it.

You enter the lobby to find him standing proudly against the wall, propped up in a lazy way and already looking at you with a dopey grin. He looks flushed, proud, and happy. Arguably, he’s even more attractive now than you ever thought he was before and instantly, you’re ten times more shy than you’ve ever been.

“There she is,” He smiles, spreading his arms out to invite you into a hug like he tried to do before, and he’s shocked that you step into his grasp. “was starting to worry I was too forward.” He adds, immediately burying his face against your neck.

You smile against his chest in the hug, feeling so warm for the first time in your life. A warmth that comes from something other than rage or tears. Already, you can feel your body shiver at the way his arms wrap tightly around you in a hug that doesn’t feel condemning.

You don’t feel trapped against another person, and it’s a welcome change.

“You definitely were a bit too forward but–” You pause, stepping out of his grasp and feeling the empty air replace his arms. “It made me feel better about liking it.”

Jake gives a reassuring smile before lending his hand to you and instantly intertwining his fingers with yours, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, and dragging you close to him before leading you out of the building. He’s reeling from the hug, feeling the way your breasts pressed up against him, the way you sighed against him, and the way you smelled while you did it.

God damn.

In his head, that hug from you felt better than any sex he’s ever had to date. His entire body reacted as to be expected, to the point he was thankful that you weren’t as close in the hug from the waist down as he wished you would have been. You would have felt that reaction, you would know how you wake his entire body up.

Thankfully, the cold air outside lends him a hand in taming his lower half, and also lends your hand to him to keep warm.

“Where are we going?” You ask out, voice gentle in the night air, unaware of how the man next to you is buzzing from his feet to the top of his ears.

He’s struggling not to lose his mind.

He can see your breath, and wants to swallow it. Each huff and puff, each word, he can visually see it in this icy night, and he knows it has to be warm despite the minty toothpaste he can smell on you.

God, he knows what your mouth tastes like, the smell sending shivers down his spine at the reminder of how he sucked your essence off of the bristles you must have used just minutes before now. He wants to kiss you, he wants to kiss your breath, he wants to devour the air and aura that surrounds you when you’re next to him.

Honestly, the cold weather does not freeze his bones. He feels entirely hot, leading you to his favorite place in the city.

“Nothing big, I assume you ate with your family so I figured we could skip the regular date stuff. I want to take you somewhere quiet and pretty.” He looks over at you, hoping you see how much he adores you.

Somehow, you do notice something in his eye. A shine, a glint. It’s something you’ve never seen in any pair of eyes that looked at you. His pupils seem to be dilated and his eyes almost look black, still, that smile reaches those same dark eyes, indicating to you that he is happy.

He looks happy to be with you right now.

And on any other day, a man you barely know saying he’s taking you somewhere “quiet” would scare you. But….you’re not scared. You’re looking forward to it, actually.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he waits for you to speak back to him, leading you easily through the city streets.

“Quiet and pretty?” You say, looking up at him. “Does this place happen to have a heater?”

It doesn’t. But that’s what he’s for.

“Unfortunately, no, but–” He goes to say, and you stop walking for a second. “I was going to say I could keep you warm, I mean, if you want. If not, I can take you somewhere else.”

You look down, weighing the options on whether you want to be that close to him so immediately, or if you’d rather follow the general rule of dates. Dinner, movie, goodnight kiss. You already hugged him, and you can admit to liking the way his arms hugged you. Maybe you’re not entirely against the idea, despite feeling alarm bells deep in your brain go off, telling you that you’re moving too fast.

And then you wonder why you start walking again, and why you’re imagining him holding you close, huddling your body against his to keep you from shaking. Intimacy. You’re thinking of intimacy.

Why does it feel good? Why does the thought excite you?

“You’ll keep me warm?” You reluctantly ask, your fingers twitching in his within that hoodie pocket.

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t want to seem too forward–” His fingers squeeze yours tighter, as if to comfort you.

You sigh, chuckling.

“Like I said, I like that you’re forward— just, no funny business okay? This is a date, not a hookup.”

Jake pauses, glancing away.

As much as he’d love to lay you down against cold, moon-lit grass and taste the entirety of your body. As much as he wants to hear you call out to him, feel you react to him, he knows what’s inside of your head better than you do, he knows he needs to tame that need for now. The fact alone that you even imagined it for a second, just to find out if you want that now, just to tell him that you don’t want it yet, is enough to satisfy him.

It won't be long until you’re asking for it anyway.

Plus, he would never do anything to you without your consent. If he’s allowed to keep you warm tonight, that alone is better than anything he could ask to experience.

“No funny business.” He uses his other hand to hold out a pinky to you. “Jesus, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Suddenly, you feel guilty as you take his pinky into your own and seal those words into a promise. Jake picks up on the way your face falls.

“I haven’t been on a date in over a year. Been avoiding it if I’m being honest,” He starts to explain as a way to soothe you, guiding you gently through a large gate. As if to connect with you on your level of discomfort. “My last relationship ended pretty badly, I didn’t think I’d ever want to date again.”

You perk up at his words, looking at him as he guides the two of you through a dark and grassy area. You can still tell his eyes are shining as he shares this with you, making you feel special and….not alone in your anxieties about this.

“I don’t know what it is about you, or why I immediately want to skip all of the casual shit when it comes to dates but, this is where I wanted to bring you.” He smiles when he stops you, standing in front of you and grabbing your other hand, holding it, and shoving it into his hoodie pocket alongside the other. “Not because I was trying to come onto you. If I was going to do that, I would've asked you to come home with me.”

You feel his icy knuckles and squeeze his hand hard to try and warm it up. Maybe to comfort him, or to thank him?

“I didn’t even bring my ex here. I actually came here to get away from her sometimes.”

You look away when the blood rushes to your cheeks at the way he’s talking to you. He’s acting like the two of you have been on at least ten dates by now, but it’s only been one.

Somehow, some way, you lean into it. Into him.

“My last relationship wasn’t very good either. Was so bad that I actually find it hard to believe that I’m on a date with someone right now, I still don’t even know if I’d know how to love again.”

You pause, closing your lips tightly and feeling awkward for saying the L word so fast like that. Implying that you don’t know if you could love Jake.

“Would you feel better knowing that I’m not asking you to think of the future?” He offers, slowly lowering himself and pulling you to the bare ground with him.

The dirt is cold, but Jake is warm.

“Just worry about how you feel today, when you’re with me. If you’re enjoying it, there’s no reason to worry about what you might feel–” He reaches for you to turn you around and drag you onto his lap before quickly enveloping you into his arms. “Or what you might not feel.” He pauses with a squeeze against you. “Is this okay?”

You don’t understand why it’s okay that he’s being so touchy, but he is warm, and any shiver that threatened to hit you now only comes in the form of butterflies seeping out of every pore on your body. He’s pulled you into his lap as if to keep you from having to sit on a blanket-less ground, and his arms are around you as if to remind you that blankets only exist for people who don’t have him.

It takes so much self control not to pull away when you feel his chest breathing against your back, but it takes even more self control to not turn around and cling onto him in the same way. You’ve wanted to feel safe so badly, for so long. You wanted to feel this way on your own though, without the need to lean on someone else.

You’ve never wanted to be a damsel in distress, but goddamn are you fucking distressed. Your trust issues run deep, so fucking deep. Anyone can see that you are a broken person, but not everyone would accept you for it.

Jake, right behind you, right under you, holding you so close like this the moment you’d let him? He accepts you entirely, and it’s so enticing to you. You can’t turn away from it, you’d only fail yourself.

You’re so fucking drawn to him, no matter how forward or blatant he is.

“This is a bit overwhelming,” You start, pulling away from him slightly and turning to look at him. But then you see his face, and how sincere he looks. “But I’ll try to appreciate how I feel right now.”

“Does that mean you’re okay with this?” Jake whispers, pulling you back against him and pressing his face against your shoulder, breathing in deep to get that scent of you into his lungs.

You don’t notice the way he does it when you nod in response, and the way he’s entirely enamored with you at this moment. He wouldn’t be able to let you go if you asked him to, not when your body is relaxing against him and you’re letting out a small hum of cautious approval.

“Are you warm?” He continues, shifting his legs only slightly from under you, mostly to make sure you’re coat is offering enough padding under you to keep from feeling the blood pumping in his pants right now. And then, his hands move from his hug down to your legs, big warm palms not moving from the expanse just above your knees, instantly warming you.

He can feel your shivers calm, and your regret for wearing this dress die.

You nod again, still cautious but also wanting to fight the fear within you so that you can really just enjoy this moment of closeness with someone else. Even if you just met him. Even if you’re afraid. His hands feel like they belong there, as you stare at the way he doesn’t move them higher or lower. They’re really just there to keep you warm, and surprisingly, you don’t know if you could ever feel cold around him at this point.

“I'm scared of this, you know?” You comment into the night after a few moments of silence, reluctantly holding onto his wrist, pushing them down your leg a bit as if to imply he should rub them.

He follows your movement, wincing from behind you in a hidden attempt to contain the fact that he very much wanted to moan at that. Feeling your legs against his palm feels so….igniting to him.

“I know.” Jake says in a matter of fact tone, confident in his words as he bores holes into the revealed skin of your leg when he moves his hands back and forth.

“You do?” You lift to turn and look at him, but his hands instantly move to your shoulders as he turns you away from him, forcing you back against him in a tight hug.

Mostly because you do not need to see his face right now, he knows he looks fucking gone.

“Anyone can see that you’re terrified.” He comments seriously now, placing his head on your shoulder and pressing his cheek against yours. “It’s no wonder I feel the need to protect you.”

You’re shocked that you don’t flinch at feeling his cheek against yours, noting that his lips are just inches from yours. You try to erase the images of kissing him so soon, you’re too weak right now. He makes you feel so weak.

Instead, you try to think hard about his words. Trying to ignore the way you felt his jaw move against you. Trying to ignore your immense attraction to the closeness he’s giving you. Are you really that obvious? Are you really this desperate to be close to someone? Anyone?

“Hoping that someday you’ll tell me what it is that makes you so afraid, but for now? Just know that I’d never do anything to make you feel like that.”

You think harder.

Much, much harder.

An uncanny feeling in your gut wonders how he finds words that are so meaningful to you. It’s like he can read your mind. It’s like your life is a book that he’s read a thousand times.

But that’s impossible. You haven’t known him for long, maybe he’s just….a really good person. Maybe you’re just lucky to have bumped into him that day. Maybe it’s lucky that your ex instilled a fear into you so deep that you found yourself living next door to the man holding you right now.

“How do you do that?” You comment quietly, feeling warmer than you ever could have expected to on a night like this.

“Do what?” He smiles, now loosening his grip on you, pulling his face back, and spreading his legs so that you’re now sitting between them, rather than on him.

After all, if he had kept you there, you would have felt what was happening in his pants by now. The way you don’t run away from him, the way you let him touch you has him reacting for more than he ever knew he could. Even after releasing his arousal just before the date, he can already feel the ache. The need to crawl into you, the need to make you fucking love him.

“It’s like you tell me exactly what I need to hear. It’s fucking weird.” You continue through his movement, scooting back as if to huddle yourself against his warm chest, in turn bumping his pathetically hard cock against your back.

You try to hide that you’re a little disappointed that you’re no longer on his lap, and the back of your thighs are now freezing against the grass. He, on the other hand, is so fucking thankful that you still manage to not feel what his body is trying to show you right now. His arms immediately wrap back around you, holding you against him much like before.

You really don’t know why you wore this fucking dress, without tights no less.

“It’s weird?” He questions. “It’s weird that I wouldn’t do anything bad to you if you gave me a chance?”

You look down, feeling those words hit you in the gut. It is weird, but then again, you’ve never really had a relationship with a person who wouldn’t bring harm to you.

“I–” You pause, thinking as hard as you can without oversharing, hands reaching up to grip his forearms, pressing them tighter against you as if you want him to save you from…well, him. “I have my reasons. I’m not trying to call you weird. It’s just weird how you show up in my life at a time where I think I needed this the most.”

He smiles.

“Well, you’re going to have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me at this point.”

You smile back.

“Likewise.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Three more dates have taken place since that first night in the empty park. Each date that followed took place in the same spot, with the same weather, and the same offered warmth.

By now, you find yourself unable to avoid thoughts of him. Thoughts of how badly you like him after learning of his interests, after seeing how he carries himself, and how he treats you over all. The way he seems so in tune with everything you could ever want or need, filling you with only safe care rather than horrifying uncertainty.

Jake likes the same books, tv shows, music, movies. All of them line up near perfect to your own favorites and suddenly you believe that the red string of fate exists. Jake is careful when he touches you, never pushing and only offering, suddenly, that red string of fate is attached firmly to your pinky. Jake looks at you like he sees one of the world's wonders, which was uncomfortable at first for you, but you think that maybe the other end of this little invisible red string is tied to his other pinky.

Your entire life of fucking horror led to this point, where the universe finally gave you the person you’d want to be with for real. Any other man would make you feel cautious, Jake though? Jake does nothing but make you feel like, for the first time, you don’t need to have a guard up. The fact that he managed to do this so fast is a bit telling on your end, that perhaps you put too much faith in people, but goddamn, it looks like he works so hard to show you that you’re not wrong about him.

On your last date, he even tried to kiss you. You panicked, backed away, and felt so fucking embarrased, until he texted you a mere fifteen minutes after parting ways and apologizing, stating that he didn’t know what came over him.

He apologized to you. He didn’t take what he wanted despite your fear, he didn’t push or pull, he simply allowed you to exist beside him, in front of him, even behind him if it’s what you wanted at the time.

God, you should have kissed him. You should have kissed him hard enough for him to realize that you’re trying.

You’re trying to be a person again, for yourself, for Jake, for your mom and uncle. Still though, he doesn’t know the shit you’ve gone through, or the shit you’re running from. You feel so dissociated at times, wondering how strange or odd you must react towards him during the dates he takes you on. Yet, he doesn’t falter. He doesn’t question. He doesn’t force you to feel like you need to apologize at all.

And this is all you can think about now. About Jake. About what he’s doing, about how he must be feeling today, about how he wears his hair, and how his alternating hoodies always offer warmth on a cold night when the two of you are sitting closely together on the ground just…talking.

The thoughts of him don’t stop and it’s kind of nice. Having your fears so loud in your ears every day, anxieties of your ex eating you alive, and fear of being alone in a big city can get quite loud and exhausting after so long of not being able to escape. Thoughts of him are the only thing that calms your mind lately, so you probably wouldn’t stop thinking of him even if you had the choice.

Unfortunately, that choice is made for you today, once again, just two days after that third date with Jake.

A single text from an unknown number that shifts your brain into a fuzzy focus of terror. Your mother told you to change your number, and you really should have done it by now. You have no excuse as to why you haven’t, but you have the reason as to why you should have done it shining brightly in your notifications center.

The unknown number is just that, unknown, but you know who it is already.

Your fingers shake when you tap the screen and your eyes go dead upon the message. This confirms that your body will always know when he is around, you will always have to feel this way for as long as he’s thinking about you.

Unknown Number: heard you got a job over at [redacted company name], mind if we have lunch?

You don’t know who told him, you don’t know how he found out where you are, or where you work. All you know is that now, the buzzing thoughts of Jake fizzle out and are quickly replaced with that of searing reminders of what happened, and what will likely happen if your ex is really trying to get to you already.

It’s the fact that the police did nothing. It’s the reality that they wouldn’t let you procure a restraining order. It’s the fact that he got away with everything he did to you, and wants to get away with more. You’re just a girl, alone in a city who thought this was the best course of action.

You can’t even bring yourself to tell anyone that he texted you. Your mother would scold you for not changing your number fast enough, despite already knowing you haven’t done it yet. It would somehow be your fault that he found you despite his insistent attempts to keep you as his, as if you belong on a chain tied to a tree in his backyard.

You call out of work, explaining the situation. Your managers are already aware of your safety concerns and the situation at hand, and you’re lucky that they really do live up to the promises they made when you took the job.

All three sick days can be used right now if you need them but after those three days, you have to either work from home and be willing to come into the office if you are needed, or you need to put in your notice and leave.

Naturally, you take the sick days, and you intend to work from home.

Despite not feeling safe here, considering the few items in your apartment that went missing not too long ago, it’s safer than walking to and from work. It’s safer with Jake just next door. It’s safer with the security guard in your building’s lobby.

You’ll be okay. This will pass.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake is at a loss, nearly ripping his hair out day by day when you don’t text him back.

When he looks to your window, the lights stay off consistently, the curains are fucking closed. You haven’t left your apartment for work, you haven’t texted nor have you called.

It’s been six days, nine hours, thirty eight minutes, and nine seconds since he last saw you and the only thing he can think of is that he fucked up.

He tried to kiss you, and you eased him into a rejection by pretending everything was fine until you felt comfortable enough to stop talking to him. For three days now, you haven’t responded to him.

Three days without any hint of you, and six days without feeling you in his arms.

He’s going insane and not even jerking off helps calm him down like it normally would. He feels like he could lose it at any moment as he paces his apartment with a buzzing non-stop energy within him, stopping at his bedroom window to stare for hours only to see no movement in your apartment. Only to still see the lights remaining off. Only to see the blinds locking him away from you.

Sure, he’s got the grainy footage of you from weeks past, the footage from the day you got dressed for your first date with him, and the footage from each date after that but he doesn’t have you. The last two days contain footage of blinds swaying, that’s it.

He was so close, he really thought he was. He thought he had you, he thought you were almost ready to let him move to the next level. He thought you would accept if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend, he thought you would let him kiss you, and let him into your apartment, and let him exist within the air you breathe.

But you left.

So, naturally, he works up the courage to grab his camera and hook it into his pc. Obsessively searching for any sign of you within the footage from last night. He tries not to think about missing a glimpse of you as he is away from his window, seeing as how you must not be home. You must have left days ago just to get away from him.

Until…as he fast forwards all of the footage, he sees a light flicker on.

The timestamp reads four in the morning, and the light stays on for a mere minute and a half before turning off again.

One thought floods his mind.

Did you find out that he watches you?

Then another thought.

Are you hiding from him?

And one last thought.

How can he explain and still get you back?

And as he continuously paces his apartment, unable to focus on anything other than knowing you’re in your bedroom hiding, nothing on this earth could calm his frantic brain.

Should he go over? Should he come see you? Should he text you again? Should he–

Pacing the same path in his apartment for far too long, nearly ripping his own hair out, he stops in his tracks at the sound of his phone. He knows that vibration like his own mother tongue by now. That’s you. You’re finally texting him back.

You: are you mad at me?

The relief is instant and near orgasmic. The first contact in what felt like an eternity for him in his head, he takes a deep and calming breath. His eyes flick back to your window, where your apartment still appears to be hidden from his view.

Jake: never, i was just worried since you stopped talking to me.

You stare at your phone, scrolling up the some fifty text messages Jake sent you over the last several days and feel awful for not once checking your phone. To be fair, you’re afraid that every message is from your ex and you eventually just ended up turning your phone off.

After all, you remember what happened the last time you blocked him. That wasn’t even an option for you at this point if he really knows where you are.

The fear inside of you is so strong by this point that you can’t help but want Jake to be with you. Even inside of your apartment, where you’ve yet to invite anyone aside from family. You just want one single day of calm, one single moment of feeling okay. The past three days have been nothing but a paranoid delusion for you.

Each sway of your curtains in front of your blinds is a person who isn’t meant to be inside of your space. Each footstep in the hallway outside of your apartment isn’t other residents, it’s someone trying to get inside. Those missing batteries from weeks ago? It was him. Your missing panties? He has them.

Just like Jake, though unknowing to you, you have been pacing much like he has. You’ve been on the verge of ripping your hair out too.

You: i think we need to talk

Jake’s relief turns to curiosity, to confusion, to horror, to excitement.

Jake: of course, love

Jake: do you want to go to the park again tonight?

You shake your head as you text back with a firm “no”, wanting so badly to explain to him why you’re acting the way you are, and why you’ve always acted so defensively. You need him to understand so that he doesn’t leave. You need him solely because he is all you’ve got right now.

You: no

You: ill explain everything but can you like…

Jake’s ears twitch as if he can hear your words, with your pretty voice, and that cute pitch it has when you talk to him.

You: i don’t like to invite people to my apartment but I'd really just rather you come over.

In less than a second Jake’s heart threatens his health. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. After days of festering in love rot for you, months actually, you’re finally inviting him. All forms of negativity towards your lack of speaking to him lately is laid to rest instantly as he jumps to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up.

Jake: just tell me when, you know I’m here when you need me.

It’s a shame that he said that, really, because you take it to heart. You need him now and will probably need him far past his ability to give to you. He will grow so tired so fast, surely, but you can’t deny nor can you avoid that you need him.

You need his comfort, his safety, his smile, his dilated pupils each time he looks at you, and his careful hands reluctant to hurt you.

You: can you come now?

Jake is already out the door, following the same path he took the first time he went to your apartment. Honestly, it’s quick enough to remind you that he’s just next door.

Jake: im in the lobby, where do I go?

You pause, briefly realizing that you’re inviting a man into your apartment just so you can feel safe from another man you once invited into your life the same way. You were so enamored with your ex, never thought he could have done what he did to you, but he did. He shattered you from the inside out through years of meticulous work, and he’s still doing it now, all because you trusted him.

It’s driving you to act as recklessly as you once did, and it’s like you’re compelled to do it. You feel forced to trust Jake, despite none of the force coming from him. It’s coming from deep within yourself. Your brain is repeating whispers of “do it, do it, do it.” when it comes to him.

You can’t resist it.

You don’t want to resist it.

You’re fast when you text him your floor and room number, and somehow still find yourself shocked at how quickly there is a knock on your door.

Jake didn’t need your informational text though, he knew exactly where to go. He knows where he belongs, and the excitement within him to have an explanation from you is one thing. The excitement of standing inside of your apartment with you is another.

His thoughts remain on that camera he placed back into his window, knowing that he will finally see himself in the footage with you, in the very spot he thinks about the most. He’s worked so hard for this, so hard.

And his hands are shaking when you open the door, his heart is shaking when he takes in the scent he remembered from before, his legs shake as he takes a step in with a face of somewhat genuine concern for you, simply to hide the way his entire body is fluttering in euphoria.

“Hey,” You start, trying to be nonchalant, trying to ignore that you look like shit. “Sorry for the mess.” You add, gesturing to not only your apartment, but at yourself as well.

“Aw,” Jake coos, poking out his bottom lip before opening his arms wide as he hears the door fall closed behind him. “Come here.”

Instantly you do, and instantly your face is hot.

Searing. On fire.

Jake freezes, feeling the warmth against his chest paired with the death grip your arms instantly lock him into. This grip on him is painfully heavy and seeped with emotion, he can feel your hot tears soaking into his hoodie and it raises goosebumps across his skin.

This is where he belongs.

“I’m sorry–” You hiccup, feeling stupid for instantly crying at the touch of another person. “This must seem so annoying to you.”

“Sorry for what?” He asks gently, finally managing to come back to your reality to hug you and hold you there, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t bear to let you pull away, so he holds you tighter against him, willing those salty sweet tears to seep through both layers of his clothing to his skin. Somehow, you still manage to make him fall harder for you. He’s so fucking in love with you. The way you cling to him like this? You’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

You try to pull back though. Once, twice, and by the third time he finally relents and lets you back away.

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze for just a moment and seeing the concern in his eyes. Pupils still dilated like they always are, but brows knitted together, with a small tilt to his head to offer a silent question.

You turn away from him to hide your face. You feel so seen, so vulnerable, and so stupid for involving him in this.

“It’s–” You pause, catching your breath and wiping your cheek as you try to make your way back to your safe space. Your bedroom. “It’s a long story.” You finally mutter out.

Jake notes where you’re headed and doesn’t want that. He needs his camera to get this, he needs to look back on this moment later, he needs to remember the smell of your tears, the feeling of your pain, the suffocating atmosphere within this apartment.

So, he takes a seat on your couch, blatantly ignoring how your voice fades before getting closer again.

You look at him when you go back to the living room, confused as to why he doesn’t follow you.

“You mentioned not inviting people into your apartment, don’t you think it would be best if I stay here for now?” He offers, giving you instant comfort in the way he doesn’t try to invade your space. “Come over here.” He continues, patting the couch cushion next to him and glancing to your window for a moment.

You watch him continue his own train of thought, shifting to reach for the blinds and open them. “It’s so dark in here, let me see you, love.” He offers again, going back to patting the couch after letting the sun in and making it seem, somehow, more enticing. “Please?”

You listen, quietly making your way to him and sitting closely against him.

“I thought I scared you away because I–um,” He gazes at you as he speaks, seemingly studying the emotional baggage under your eyes. “tried to kiss you.” He trails off, very much wanting to kiss you again.

“That didn’t scare me.” You shake your head, still trying to avoid his eye now that you know the sun is allowing him a true view at how destroyed you must look. “It’s just, we’ve been on a few dates now and I like you– alot.” You say more to yourself than to him, as if you’re confirming internally that you need to explain some things to him before giving him the option to run away. “I feel like I–”

“I like you.” He interrupts you. “Alot.” He continues, becoming hyper-aware of everything in the universe. He can feel the hairs on his head grow, he can hear the birds a country away, he can taste the sunlight spilling against your watery eyes.

You like him, and he likes you.

And he takes intense note of the way you dip your head, a small smile curling up on the permanent frown you previously had.

“But Jake,” You say, letting your face fall again. “I think we need to talk about some things before, like, you decide if you really like me.”

That’s silly. He knows everything about you already. He’s in love with you, nothing you could say or do will ever change that. He wishes you could see it, he wishes you knew that he was made for you.

“There is nothing you could say to change my mind,” He says sternly, turning towards you and attempting to make you look at him by grabbing your chin gently between his pointer finger and thumb, “Hey, look at me.” He urges you, pleased in the way you do turn to look at him.

He’s stunned. The whites of your eyes are red, your eyelids are puffy, you appear to be so tired, and still you are so beautiful to him.

For a moment, you take note of the way he looks at you and wonder how he could genuinely think that way and show it so blatantly. Are you the one who is acting recklessly here, or is it him? Somehow, it brings you comfort, even if you feel the need to force your eyes away from him.

He doesn’t let you, and you let him not let you.

Your eyes stay on his.

“I don’t think you realize how much I want to be with you.” He admits blatantly, forcing you to forget your train of thought for a total of three seconds before your eyes really lock onto his. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize that.” He continues.

“Jake,” You mutter out, feeling so full of emotion that you weren’t quite prepared to accept yet. “Please,” You mutter again, continuously losing your thoughts, only to gain them back moments later, and then lose them again when his eyes stare through you. “Please, let me explain something before you say that.”

He pulls his eyes away now, closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration before breathing out and adjusting his eyes to you again.

He nods reluctantly, relaxing against your couch and throwing his arm around the back of you, pulling you to lean against him, where you can instantly hear the way his heart is beating.

It’s beating fast. So fast that it’s almost distracting to you if you think too hard about it. So, you don’t. You try to ignore the way it beats against the top of your head just so you can finally give him some insight on why you haven’t texted him, on why you didn’t let him kiss you, on why you’re so reluctant.

“Remember how we were talking about our last relationships?” You finally say, feeling his hand on your shoulder rub little shapes against your shirt in a comforting way.

He hums, continuing to trace his own name against your sleeve as he confirms your words. Because of fucking course he does. He remembers everything about you.

“Mine was bad.” You pause, willing the emotion to say in your throat. “Really bad.”

“How bad?” Jake encourages you instantly, already knowing the answer.

To be fair though, he’s been waiting to hear the words from your own mouth. He’s been pretending to not know this entire time, holding in his rage when he’s in front of you, seeing how it affected you, feeling what he did to you through your lack of trust and affection.

“I think you could probably guess, considering I didn’t let you kiss me.” You try to say without going too deep into it. “Considering I’m afraid to let you touch me.”

“But you did.” He says calmly, running the hand on your shoulder down to your waist to pull you in closer. “You did let me touch you.”

You recoil internally.

“I let you hug me, and I let you keep me warm.” You admit. “I don’t know why I let you though. I wasn’t afraid when it was with you.”

Jake knows exactly what you’re trying to say to him, and loves that you admit that he’s different. He is different because of you and for you. His stomach flutters at the fact that you know that, and you accept it.

“Because I wouldn’t hurt you.” He continues to echo his words to you, seemingly giving you a final answer to a question in your head that you have yet to find an answer to. “Because I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you.”

God, the warmth that floods your body is what you’ve been wanting. This is why you wanted him to come over. This is why you need him. You can’t do this alone, you want him here with you.

“I think, deep down, you know that I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.” He continues, talking for you, talking as if he is inside of your head.

“I can make an assumption on what he did to you and I don’t need to know how far it went, but it’s not going to keep me away from you.” He takes in a sigh, releasing his next words with a breathy chuckle. “I have always wanted to be with you, and I still do.”

He feels the way your breathing evens out as you listen to him.

“Did you stop talking to me because of this?” He finally asks, letting the question hang in the air before his hand grips your waist tightly, holding you so close against him that you’re nearly on top of him. “Did you think I wouldn’t fight to have you?”

The words are brash and hard to swallow, but that’s not why.

If you could, you would have gone the rest of your life without telling another person what happened to you. You don’t want it to define you, and you don’t want Jake to ever feel like he needs to fight for you.

You shake your head.

“No.” You say sternly, now wrapping your own arm around his middle and hugging him as tightly as he does to you. Your head dips below his chest, up against his ribs as you curl yourself into him entirely, preparing to tell him. “I moved here to get away from him–” You start, feeling your body shiver in each spot your ex hurt you from before. “And I think he found me.”

You feel it before Jake realizes it himself, but it’s like all of the warmth left his body within seconds. He stiffens, his grip on you loosens, and he trembles for just long enough for it to be noticeable.

“What?” He says, breathing in through his nose and staring straight ahead, seemingly out of it.

“He texted me a few days ago, mentioning he knows where I work, asking if I want to have lunch with him.” You try to explain. “I freaked out, I called in, and I haven’t left my apartment since.”

“He what?” Jake repeats, now slowly turning to you.

For the first time when you meet his eye, you see his pupils constrict. They’re not dilated, in fact, they’re tiny. Horrifically tiny. And if you look hard enough, it’s almost like they’re vibrating against the pretty brown color of his iris. The simple act of watching them change like that felt uncanny. You pull back from him, shocked at the expression and not quite recognizing him compared to moments before.

And then, he realizes your reaction to him and is immediately pulling himself back to you. He pushes that shocked rage back for now. Just for now. His pupils fall back into their permanent dilated state. His face softens, his body relaxes, and then he’s holding you again.

“No one can hurt you when I’m here.” He finally whispers out, trying to keep his voice even and warm to calm you down. “So, he found you? So what?” He continues, letting his confidence take over. “I already told you, he can’t touch you.”

For some reason, his initial reaction sinks into the back of your mind as he holds you like this and says things like that. Why? Because you believe him.

Somehow, you believe him.

“Can you promise me that?” You ask reluctantly, taking everything you can get from Jake at this moment in an attempt to feel safe, to feel better.

He nods instantly, and keeps nodding as he shifts his head to look down at you. This prompts you to look up at him, making direct eye contact and holy fuck. It hurts him not to dip down and make you forget that anyone else in this world exists aside from him.

From this angle, as you look up to him with a promise swirling around the two of you, he knows he’s got you. You’ve never looked at him like this. There is no hint of doubt, curiosity, confusion, or fear in your eyes as you wait for him to answer.

All he can do is stare at you, breath caught in his throat at the constant realization that he’s here. You’re against him, you’re talking to him, you’re looking at him, you’re–fuck, you’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed in life.

“I can promise you that, and more.” He finally whispers out to you, knowing you can feel his words spread across your forehead. “I think I’d do just about anything for you.”

You nod, keeping eye contact with him for a moment more before lying your head back against him and breathing a big sigh of relief.

“I guess I’m yours then.” You sigh out, feeling comfortable saying the words.

And oh.

Oh, the fucking joy that rattles every bone in his body. The immense amount of love, adoration, and wonderstruck devotion he feels for you fills his body from the core, he can feel it seep out of him with each breath, each tear that reaches his eye, each goosebump, all of it.

You’re his. You said it. With your own voice, your own words, your own thoughts, right up by his heartbeat, you fucking said it.

“Yeah,” He says in his own shaking breath, blinking away the first tear he’s felt in his eye for years, wanting to squeeze you so tight that you go numb. “You are.” He continues, swooping down just slightly and prompting you to look at him again.

Those dark eyes are dazed, and once again you feel like he sees you as the only other breathing person on this planet with him. It’s….so nice.

Silence hangs in the air as you look at each other, seemingly confirming a relationship that feels more uncertain to you than it does to him, but you know you’ll try. You want to be his safety too, you want to give him everything you have.

And then he says it.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?”

It hurts you when you hear the way he says it. So uncertain and reluctant to cross a boundary. You’re trying to confirm his feelings for you, the feelings that you feel so lucky to receive. You’re trying to make him understand that he’s the only person you’re comfortable with. He’s the only one you’d ever let kiss you.

You’ve made him hold back so much, you can imagine.

You nod to him first, watching him almost immediately close in to do just that, but you pull back on instinct.

“Just–” You raise a hand in front of him, putting your fingers to his lips to halt him. “Let’s go slow.” You say, already knowing he will accept it. He will go slow for you.

“Love, you really just don’t get it.” Jake smiles, averting his lips and landing a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his lips for the first time. “I have enough patience for both of us.”

And if only you knew how true that statement is. For him, he’s already been waiting for this moment since before you knew he existed. Despite his small moments of losing control, needing more, he could have waited even longer for this moment with you. All of it is worth it in the end if he gets to hear you call yourself his again.

You are his. You have always been his.

And you decide at that moment that he is right. He’s been nothing but patient with you, and has done nothing to make you feel otherwise.

A kiss wouldn’t hurt, a few kisses wouldn’t hurt.

So, you lift your head just a bit more, closing your eyes softly and waiting for him to do it. Waiting for him to kiss you, waiting for him to–

“Little more,” He encourages you, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Just a little closer.”

And you do. The least you can do is close the distance for him, especially after what he just learned about you. He probably wants you to be the one to approach him, he probably doesn’t want to cross a boundary, or scare you.

For Jake, the way you listen without a hint of hesitation is…well. It scares him. It scares him how every assumption he had about you was right. Given, he knew he would be, but experiencing it right here, right now, is amazing to him.

He keeps his eyes open through all of it, seeing your heavy eyes stay closed as you place your lips on his.

It’s so soft. Your lips are plush when they’re puckered against his own, soft, so fucking soft. He chokes back a relieved sob at finally getting this from you, hiding it with a thick swallow and his hands rushing up to cup both of your cheeks in his hands as he lets himself feel you like this.

He’s thought about it so much. Just these few seconds of feeling you kiss him already exceeds his expectations. He can feel your eyelashes flutter on the tips of his fingers, and it only makes him tilt his head just a bit to slot his lips against yours in a more comfortable position.

He doesn’t move after that, nor do you. Both of you just feel it.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed anyone since your ex and even he didn’t hold your face against his like this, despite swearing he loved you more than life itself. You can feel the burn at the corner of your eyes, and you breathe out through your nose to try and keep them in.

You don’t even notice the tears that escape until Jake is tasting them, relishing in what you’ve chosen to give to him. Never realizing how good pain can taste until it comes from you, and then he pulls back just slightly.

It was nothing but a long and drawn out act of lying lips against each other. There was no tongue, there were no frantic movements. It was just…a first kiss, that lasted what felt like years to you, and only a split second for Jake.

He blinks down at you, noting the beads of tears bunching up in your bottom lashes and uses his thumb to swipe just under your eye. That view alone of seeing his hand do it was enough to confirm for him that he is no longer chasing. You are his, and never will another person get the chance to look at you as closely as he does.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Jake smiles when he says it, feeling your tears nourish his body.

You nod, still blinking up at him.

“In passing, on dates. Never like this though.” You admit in a small voice, feeling a bit shy with the way you feel entirely new when he’s with you.

“I’ll tell you every day.” He says, leaning down to connect his lips with yours once again solely because he can’t choose between staring at you or kissing you now.

All of his senses are in overdrive. Kissing you, looking at you, sitting on your couch in your apartment, none of it will ever satiate his need for more, more, fucking more of you. And all of it is happening right there, in front of his camera.

He can relive this time and time again for the moments he can’t be with you.

You stay silent after that, alternating between the same long and simple kisses and staring at each other until you can see the sun shift positions in the sky. Sometimes he will say things during this time, sweet and passionate words that only make you feel safer and safer in your own space.

Up until you feel his body shift and his hands pull back to his own body.

You look at him as if he just interrupted a very important moment in your life, and in a way, he did. You could sit with him like this for three hours more if he allowed it, but unfortunately, nature does tend to call.

“I’ll be back–” He whispers right up against your lips, knowing that you’re already growing familiar with how they feel against you. Smiling when your lips chase him as he stands up. He lends you one more. A quick kiss, one that reminds you that he isn’t leaving you. “Just a second.” He adds in an even smaller voice, heading straight for your bathroom.

You’re still so in awe at how slow the night feels with him, loving every warm second of it. You’re not thinking about anything but him and the way his lips feel. Hell, you haven’t even gotten a full glimpse of him since that first kiss.

So, of course you don’t notice how he somehow knew which door held your bathroom behind it, or how long he stayed in there. You weren’t paying attention at all as you flop back and do your very best not to kick your legs out of happiness at this moment.

You finally feel comfortable, even while a threat looms just outside of these walls. You have a boyfriend now, one that appears to be willing to stay beside you through all of it.

You’re happy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

All good things come to an end but at least this time, it’s temporary.

The night with Jake felt much needed on both accounts, but it became one sided when your discomfort kicked in. It’s not that you didn’t want him to stay, above all you almost needed him to.

He was so willing to stay, you could tell just by looking at him sitting next to you with kissed lips and dazed eyes, far too late in the night to excuse what you eventually made happen. He had to go back home.

Again, it’s not because you didn’t want him to stay, it’s because you felt better. You felt so much better that you didn’t think even for a second that Jake wouldn’t come running back over if you so much as hinted through a text that you needed him. Not to mention, upon your anxieties calming, your rational thoughts took back over and reminded you that this was enough. You don’t need him to coddle you more, or to worry for you.

You’re not entirely ready to let a man sleep in your home, despite very much loving the time you spent with him here.

After all, you interrupted his day already by asking for him to cater to you. Cater he did, and you wanted to do the same for him. Kissing him one more time with an apologetic look, stating that it’s best if he goes back home for the night.

You still remember the look on his face when you walked him to the lobby. Reluctance, confusion, even a bit of panic. He needed another kiss, and another kiss you gave.

His shoulders relaxed at that, and you watched him turn on his heel and head back home to presumably sleep without you.

And while you slept well that night, thinking of him and how you somehow found a boyfriend amidst all of your fears, Jake was wide awake and reeling from the conversations he shared with you, the kisses, the cuddling, the smell. Fuck, it was so much to face by the time he made it back into his cold and dreary apartment.

He doesn’t belong in this space, he belongs just across the street with you. But, for your sake…he will continue the patience he promised you. After all, he could see in your eyes that briefly, you considered letting him stay.

And throughout the night, his calm overtakes him as he rethinks, staring down his camera and trying to decide if he should watch it back until you eventually text him after you wake up.

He ultimately decides to watch, checking that your lights are off one last time before moving to his PC and plugging in the camera. The first thing he does is fast forward to your first kiss, and then the second, third, fourth…

He rewinds it to watch again, almost feeling that you’re still against him when he presses play a bit too far back in the footage.

You pull away from him in that moment and suddenly he remembers why.

Before the blissful moments he spent with you, there was a moment of intense and uncontrollable rage within him. When you told him the less-than-detailed story of what your ex did to you, he was expecting it. He knew how to act surprised, he knew how to comfort you, he knew how to make you understand that your past wouldn’t scare him away.

What he wasn’t prepared for was to find out that your fears that he read in your journal were very real. Learning that your ex texted you and that he knew where you were was one thing, but hearing your voice crack upon telling him that he wants to meet with you is another.

Jake couldn’t have prepared a reaction for that even if he tried. Not one that wouldn’t have scared you, at least. And now, this night of reliving the hours in which it took for him to make you his girlfriend once and for all turned into a night of internet sleuthing.

Finding the man on social media can’t be that hard. All he had to do was search your name to find your family, which he has done probably a thousand times by now. He knew that within the public posts of your family, this guy had to have been associated somewhere.

And after three hours of finding nothing, a little hint of who this man is reveals itself.

So far into his searches, intense googling, and even yearbook studying, he finds an older facebook account of your mother and he slaps himself in the forehead for not double checking the profiles sooner, he could have saved at least two hours if he had found this earlier.

She must have made a new account after the divorce that she clearly had and shared with the world. It only takes a single scroll with his mouse wheel to find an image of her, another woman, you, and…that man.

Jake sits and stares at the old image, noting that it’s over four years old. Indicating that you must have been with this guy for a long time. You look happy in the photo, with his arm snaked around your waist and gripping you tight.

Jake, above anyone else, knows that grip he’s got on you. It’s the same one he had on you just hours ago but he tries not to think too hard, prying his eyes away from a happy you with that piece of shit. If he ruminates on this image of you with another man, he very well may resent you for ever letting another man be with you in the first place.

Instead, he has to force his eyes from the younger college version of you and look at the reactions of the photo.

Of course your mother is the type to have hundreds and hundreds of friends, most that she doesn’t even know in real life surely. The image has seventy three likes, and he goes through each and every single one until he finally recognizes the account of the very man in that photo, holding you, as if it’s his rightful place beside you.

God, safety concerns be damned. He cannot believe that your mother never deleted this account. Your ex probably looks at this photo all the time, he probably gets off on it too. Like he must think that because he had you once, he could win you over again. No. Jake will see blood before he ever lets that happen.

Jake rolls his eyes, giving himself a mental note to find a way to tell you that your mother should really watch her online presence if her own daughter’s safety is in danger, and then he continues his snooping on your ex.

One simple google of his name and city and Jake’s got a workplace address. Come Monday morning, you’ll never have to worry about this guy again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every. single. day.

Every day you have texted him since the night he left your apartment, and every day he hopes that you force him to be patient with you. Why? Because for the first time, he needs to stay distant for now.

He kept his promise. Maybe he even overdid it a little bit.

Given, he knows you’d probably be happy in knowing what happened, he just thinks it would be best not to tell you about it. For now, at least, he doesn’t want you to see the mark above his eye because if you find out what happened, perhaps you’d stop needing him for comfort. Maybe you’d even break up with him since you’d no longer need him.

He’s going to ensure that you are safe, and he’s going to keep you.

Unfortunately, Jake is awful at telling you no, awful at living up to his patience, and fucking horrible at staying away from you. When you text him this morning, just two days after he met with your ex, it’s not your usual greeting.

You: they need me to go to the office today…

God, has he no shame? No. He doesn’t. Never in his life could he even imagine being ashamed to instantly come at your beck and call. Though you have nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Jake: I’ll walk you there.

You smile at his immediate act of protection of you.

You: It’s okay, my manager is already on her way to pick me up. she knows about everything so i’m still safe!

He pauses, trying to look at the bright side of not seeing you. He’s not in fear of your safety like you are, because he definitely took care of the matter, but…under the guise of you still needing it, he doesn’t like that you’re letting someone else protect you on your trip to work.

Jake: oh

You stare at your phone, feeling bad that you haven't offered him much since he was last at your apartment. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding him again, or to think that you don’t want to see him but…your manager has a car. If you were to let him walk you to work, you’d just be paranoid of being on the street.

You’d just feel bad for him to have to walk back home alone. And you’d feel even worse knowing he’d make the same trip to walk you back home.

You: i don’t want to have to walk to work, even if I know you’d be there with me. It’s just a huge inconvenience for you and a big safety concern for me…

He reads your text and scoffs. Do you still not understand that it’s what he lives for? He would walk across the fucking country if you so much as suggested there was a leaf on the ground that you wanted to look at. It’s not an inconvenience.

The inconvenience is you giving someone else the right to what he is supposed to be doing for you.

Jake: it’s ok love, just text me when you get there safe

You pause, unable to shake the feeling of guilt that’s threatening your brain right now. It feels awkward, it feels weird. You’re more than aware to know that he probably wants to prove something to you, especially with such a new relationship but you can’t help but feel like you’re the only person who needs to prove something.

You need his protection, but you don’t want to exhaust him. That is your biggest fear, even over the idea of your ex finding you. The idea of being wanted by someone you hate hurts far less than the idea of being unwanted by the man who is seemingly upset with you over not getting to walk you to work.

So, you’ll prove to him that this isn’t because he isn’t capable of protecting you. You’ll prove to him that you do want to see him.

You: Can I see you after i get home? I miss you.

His reactions are always so immediate as he slams his phone against his chest, sighing out of relief that you want to see him tonight. So what if he has a blatant and obvious bruise on his face? He will proudly present it to you, with a lie of course, solely because he knows it’s proof that he would do anything for you.

Jake: I miss you too :) just tell me when she’s bringing you back to me and i’ll be waiting in the lobby for you.

For some reason, those little typed words of “bringing you back to me” hits you hard in the chest. It makes you feel warm, happy even, as you head out of your apartment and straight for your manager’s car.

Sure, you might not be walking to work when they need you to come in for a while, but you’ll sure as hell be certain to make it up to Jake every single time. You can practically feel his excitement through his quickly sent texts, and you can’t help but thrive off of it.

Now, even as you’re worried that you’ll be at work, in a place where he can find you, you feel excited. You’re looking forward to getting to go back home, and looking forward to hugging Jake, and talking to him, and seeing his pretty face.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You don’t recall your work days going by this slowly, as you fiddle around your desk wondering why they called you here today in the first place. “For a meeting” Your manager had said. Well that’s all fine and dandy if it weren’t for the fact that the meeting isn’t scheduled until four thirty in the afternoon, the end of the fucking day.

You could have worked from home and just came in for the meeting if that was the case, but you’re already here and mostly just annoyed that you had to come at all.

You scroll your phone, do some paperwork, scroll some more, more paperwork, and then, just as you open your messages so you can complain to Jake about how stupid this work day is, you pause.

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of everything and everyone around you, and all you can do is sit at your desk and pretend that you don’t see the man across the large room filled with fifty other cubicles, eyes scanning for you.

The only thing you know how to do is drop to the floor upon seeing that familiar smile. You’re not ashamed when you text your manager, telling her who security just led to your floor. You’re even less ashamed in the way you quickly rush to the back, around a corner, and out the fire escape.

You came to work today to miss not one meeting, but two, apparently. The only reason you even feel safe enough to power-walk back to your apartment is because you know exactly where your stupid handsome ex is, and you know exactly why he’s there.

He’s not following you right now, you’re sure of it. You told your manager exactly who he was before, and she knows exactly where he is now. Surely they’re distracting him, because your manager, bless her, already texted you that she would take care of it and that you should get home quickly.

Insane scenario, really. You should have just called the police, but it’s not like he fucking did anything within these city limits outside of take an elevator to your floor.

God, how did he even know you were going to be at work today?

And as you rush into your apartment building, not even knowing how long or how short it took you to get there, you feel your phone vibrate before you even get in the building’s front door.

Jake: why are you home so early, and why did you walk alone?

Instantly you call him, not thinking even for a second that it’s strange that he saw you come in. If anything, it was probably just a coincidence. He just happened to look outside and you just happened to be panic-walking inside.

“Come over.” You say, out of breath into the speaker.

Jake doesn’t even respond, he just hangs up and is immediately rushing to your building as quickly as his feet can carry him, for the first time unsure of what’s going on with you.

He thinks this may actually be his record time of getting to you even, considering you’re walking up to your door as soon as he steps out of the elevator and rushing up to you.

“What’s wrong!?” You hear his panicked voice from behind you as you unlock your door, stepping inside and grabbing him by the shirt, not even looking at him before pulling him inside.

“I missed you.” You say, desperate to feel safe again and running entirely on adrenaline as you lift up and kiss him harder than you ever have before.

Jake freezes, feeling your grip on his shirt and your hardened pucker against his lips. He doesn’t relax into it at all, in fact, the way you just grabbed him runs straight between his legs and all he can do is grab your shirt back, pulling you up more, kissing you twice as hard.

He knew you could be forceful, and somehow this is the last thing he was expecting. Did you rush home alone and call him with that desperate voice because you needed him? Did you finally give in? Does he mean this much to you already?

There are no words in this breathless moment as you let yourself spiral into a void with Jake. Feeling only safe when he’s with you, on you, holding you, touching you. You really should have let him walk you to work. You should have let him stay with you there, you shouldn’t ever let him leave your side.

You only feel calm when he’s with you, and god you almost hope your ex followed you here so that he can walk in and find you kissing someone else. Someone better.

“What happened?” Jake groans out his words between the harsh kisses that are quickly turning heated. Your grip on his shirt only tightens, and you stumble back to pull him with you.

You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to explain, you just want to…do this. You need him to give you that brain fog that makes you forget about anything else.

And it’s the first time he’s ever felt your tongue. So desperate to part his lips, so frantic, so sweet. The new feeling is more than he ever could have imagined, he feels like he’s almost forgotten how to kiss you back at this point. He lets you do all of the work right now, tasting inside of his mouth and fluttering your lashes against his cheek bone when you skew your head just a little bit to kiss him deeper.

He’s feeling everything at once, and the fact that he’s finally back in your apartment only makes this worse for him. Or maybe, better? He isn’t sure, but what he does know is that if you keep doing this, he won’t be able to hold back. How could he? You’re pulling him, nearly tripping over your own feet just to pull him deeper into the room– right there in front of that same fucking window.

Your tight grip on his shirt warms him along with knowing this is being recorded, right up from the brief amount of cold air that hit him on his run over. It was freezing, and he left without even throwing on his hoodie. Which is nice and detrimental to his health. It’s like you’re closer than you’ve ever been to him without two layers of clothing on, just this shirt keeping you from gripping his skin instead.

And he would let you, he would let you grip and claw through his chest to pull him further into your space. If you missed him so much, perhaps he wouldn’t need to hold back. Your kisses are bruising, and the little breaths you take with each tilt to your head drives his heart to tremble in his chest, he’s sure you may not want him to hold it in any longer.

He’s tasting you right now and only because you’re tasting him first.

Safe to say, he’s in shock and entirely turned on right now with the way you try to overpower him. He lets you. Yes, yes, yes. Why wouldn’t he? You’re not being shy and your defenses are entirely down for him.

You continue to stumble back with him, up until your legs hit your couch and he very nearly falls on top of you, but instead he holds steady, watching you fall from the close proximity against his lips with a huff after you hit the soft cushions.

He felt his shirt slip from your fingers in the descent and can do nothing but look at you in pure awe. You look like you want him right now, you look up at him the same way he looks at you.

Your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving, and you’re just staring up at him with each breath.

“Jake?” You mutter in a slight whisper and furrow your brows at your findings upon finally looking at him. In your rush to kiss him and to have him as close to you as possible, you nearly missed it.

You reach a hand out and see him immediately take it, your gaze still trained on the bruise above his eye. You pull him to you instantly, landing your lips just below his right brow. “Why is there a bruise?”

He pauses to feel your breath hit his brow, entirely forgetting that he is a human being with flesh that can be marked by another. Forgetting that pain exists, solely because the kiss you just landed against that swollen spot felt good. So good.

“Ah–” He chuckles slyly, feeling you repeatedly kiss the area, bruising it more by the force behind your lips. “Dropped my phone on my face a few nights ago while texting you.”

You smile against it, finding the image endearing before pulling back and taking note of the way he hovers above you, not letting a single part of his body touch you without you prompting it.

“You should be more careful,” You smile, pulling him down more, until he is forced to use his arms on the back of your couch to steady himself. “Stay like this.”

He notes how you look so small under him, and he would want nothing more than to stay like this for you.

“On top of you?” He asks gently, allowing his hungry eyes to fall to a half-lidded stare, he tilts his head and inches back to your lips as he says it, entirely drunk on the image of you against the couch and totally barred from the outside world by his body.

“Yeah,” You sigh at how pretty he is close up, dark eyes taking you in with that deep stare. “Feels like nothing could ever get to me if you’re like this.”

He nods confirmation.

“You were scared of being alone today, weren’t you?” He asks gently, pulling back from the almost-kiss and now adjusting you to lay down on your couch, all so he can more comfortably fulfill the request you just asked of him. “Don’t go anywhere without me again, and I'll stay like this for as long as you need me to.”

You stare up at him and his words as he crawls onto the couch with you, over you. He nudges himself between your legs and only now do you understand what it must feel like to want someone to love. You never imagined you’d let a man be with you like this again, and yet there’s so much truth in his facial expression after he said those words. You can’t help but feel like you were stupid to ever think you could do any of this alone.

You never could do it alone to begin with.

“I won’t,” You confirm for him, lifting your hand to move a strand of hair that hangs over that darkened bruise above his eye. “So, stay like this.”

And he does, eyes lost as they glance at every part of your face, only closing his eyes to feel your fingers in his hair for that short moment. He lets out a long sigh, trying to keep his lower half from losing control, both understanding and not comprehending that he’s on top of you right now.

Only now, with his mind racing and skin reacting does he dip back down.

“Alright.” He whispers just before the kiss, intentionally relaxing his lower half and allowing you to feel exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels you shift when you feel it, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he presses forward a bit more with his hips, making sure you feel his love for you in its entirety.

And when your hands find their way into his hair and you hum against his tongue, that’s when he pulls back.

“Sorry,” He admits, looking away from you. “Didn’t know you were going to just– grab me like that and kiss me.”

All you can do is smile at him, refusing to question why you don’t recoil at the idea of a man being turned on. If anything, you give in to the feeling of pleasure yourself. Especially after so long of not only denying it to yourself, but fearing it.

And the two of you just lay there, shifting from time to time to get more comfortable and to ease numb limbs. Just kissing. Just making out.

Hot, wet, warm kissing. To the point of being out of breath but not yet pulling back. Never wanting to be the first one to break the contact, but always wanting to be the first to dip back in. You feel his excitement throughout all of it, and you feel his patience as well.

He doesn’t even chase when your body arches into his intense kisses, he doesn’t ask for more, and ultimately, it doesn’t matter that your ex showed up at your workplace today. Because you’ve got Jake right here, on you, shielding you, holding you.

No one can get to you right now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake holds you as you sleep, as tight as he can manage without waking you up. Thinking in his head over and over again about how pretty you are, how perfect you are, how utterly infatuated with you he is.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall asleep like that, gentle fingers scratching the back of his neck and holding him just as tightly. Whispering to him that you don’t want him to leave this time.

Muttering that you want him to stay.

He remembers so well how pretty your half-asleep voice sounded, with your half-asleep eyes, and half-asleep legs tangled in his own.

He didn’t sleep.

No, no. He couldn’t have. He didn’t want to miss a single breath or twitch of your brow as you dreamt. And he really didn’t miss a single one either.

The sun is long gone in the sky by the time his own heavy eyes force him to blink. It’s so dark in the room but you brighten it up for him just fine, with that pretty breath and sleeping face. His gaze falls upon the window as he smiles, hugging you even closer to him just to feel you nuzzle your nose up and against his neck.

He has yet to set foot into your bedroom since the first time he’s been here but that doesn’t bother him. You both fit perfectly on this couch. Forced proximity really lives up to its name in this city, apparently. You haven’t ever been without him, and you never will be.

He’s more than delighted to–

His thoughts shake the same way your phone does. A vibration sending his mind into a spiral at who could possibly be texting you at this hour if not him.

The phone lights up the room and he’s very careful to reach for it, smiling when your sleepy brain tells you that he’s reaching over you to hug you closer again, not to grab at your phone that you left forgotten on the table.

He’s so quiet, so careful.

The screen lights up his face, causing his dry eyes to water until they adjust to the notification.

A text message.

From an unknown number.

His eyes fall to you as he tries to remember the patterns of numbers you’ve typed into your phone, only to fail a total of three times before gently shaking you.

“Love,” He whispers, lying his lips against your forehead. “What’s your passcode?”

“Hmm?” You mumble against him, his shirt bunched up against your own lips.

“Your passcode,” He repeats in a more gentle voice, trying to keep from waking you entirely. “I forgot my phone at home, and I want to set an alarm.”

Your sleepy brain barely registers his words, or the fact that he’s lying. You felt his phone in his pocket when he was lying on top of you all night.

“Ah,” You sigh out, clearing the sleep from your throat as you whisper out the numbers to him, slurring out the last one as you fall right back into your deep slumber

Jake smiles, dumbfounded yet again by how adorable you are for him.

Now, with one hand unlocking your phone and the other tracing his name, once again, onto the fabric of your back, he swipes to your messages.

Rage.

Unknown number: so who is the new guy

Unknown number: get me banned from your work then you send him? fought like a bitch

Unknown number: i’ll be seeing you soon babe

Empty threats, he knows they have to be. Blatant lies and empty fucking threats. This idiot can’t do shit considering how battered he managed to leave him.

He thinks hard about the pain against his knuckles and even harder about how you didn’t note that they’re just as bruised as his eye. Thankfully, you were too enveloped in kissing him to take note of his bruised hands, or the lie about dropping his phone.

Jake easily deletes the texts and blocks the number, understanding that this little problem of yours is his problem to solve. And the worst part is that he knows exactly why this man wants you back. He hates that he understands the thought process from the root, knowing that if he, himself, couldn’t have you, he’d have to take desperate measures too. As if he hasn’t already.

He’s similar to your ex, who was far more handsome with blood on his face, and you can never know that. As similar as he is, mirroring the love and abundant weakness he has for you, he would never. fucking. hurt. you. Infact, Jake would set himself aflame before even imagining you crying for him to leave you alone.

Why would he set himself up for you to fear him? Your ex is a royally vacuous man, at least Jake has the smarts to treat you well.

Still, he gets it.

Who wouldn’t want you all to themself anyway?

You’re Jake’s though. You belong to him and only him, you always have, and that’s the only reason, he thinks, that you’re in this mess. Had you not tried to love someone before him, perhaps you wouldn’t have that little journal filled to the brim with night terrors and body shakes.

And as he ruminates on whether or not he should pay your ex another visit, this time without holding back, he searches the rest of your messages simply because he is entitled to it.

Every text you have is from your family and him. Good.

Your photos.

Most of you and your family, one specific photo of you. Deep within your camera roll, pressing your tits together, hand grabbing one of them, panties sitting prettily on your hips.

Who did you send that to? It’s old, your hair is different, but he’d like to hope it wasn’t to the man whose blood he’s currently craving. Still, he feels discomfort in knowing this photo was taken long before he loved you, and long before you loved him. Meaning, whether it was to your ex or not, it wasn’t for him.

His length stirs immediately still, so turned on by the image of you, the feeling of you currently against him, and the internal future promise to feel your ex’s teeth break against his fists. All of it is making his dick ache, as he chews the inside of his bottom lip and easily sends the nude to himself before deleting it from your phone forever. He’d better be the last to see this image of you, and the last to ever feel you hug against him like this. Then, he removes the sent message from your phone to hide the traces of it entirely.

You shift against him at this moment and he pulls back slightly to look at you, quickly closing out your apps, locking your phone, and tossing it to the floor. There, he wraps both arms around you, hugging you so tightly that you do wake up this time.

“You’re so cute,” Jake mumbles against the top of your head. “Wake up so I can kiss you.”

You smile against him, shifting your head up and finding his lips within the dark room. It’s soft at first, and you assume he’s going to pull back, satisfied with it, but he doesn’t.

It’s a quick movement, one that causes your sleepy groan to come out as a surprised yelp. He easily moves on top of you again, using his knees to spread your legs so he can lay between them, and his fingers locking into yours, pressing them into the cushion above your head.

“Sorry,” He pouts, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.” He continues, kissing down to your jaw, and just below your ear. “I’ve been so turned on all day, please.”

You chuckle, feeling the tickle of his plush bottom lip meeting the sensitive pulse point of your neck. Pleased with how much he wants you, and even more pleased that you kind of…want this too. But, you’re not entirely ready. Even in this perfect atmosphere with the perfect man. Room shielded entirely by night, warm lips kissing you, strong arms holding you…

You’re still not ready.

“Mm, Jake.” You hum, catching his attention and feeling him move his head back to look at you. “Not yet.”

And then you hear him let out a nervous chuckle, a sigh, and a whisper.

“Alright, baby.” He pouts again.

He moves back to your side and hugs you against him, trying not to seem as disappointed as he really is right now before you hear him speak again. You barely hear it, and you barely comprehend it within the comfort of his hug, but you do think you’ll remember it.

“Then when?”

Even as you fall back to sleep, you think about it. The fact that he’s already been so patient with you and that you knew it would run out eventually. You’ll lose him at this rate, and these soft arms vowing to protect you.

If anything, Jake has given you everything and you’ve given him nothing. If he finds out that you’ve already spotted your ex at work, he might really run away knowing that no matter what he does, you may never be ready to give him intimacy on a deeper level as long as said ex is around.

You felt how much he wanted you today right up against you. If you were any other woman, you wouldn’t have been able to pretend it wasn’t there. You would have touched him, you would have given yourself to him.

And god, you want him so badly at the same time. The only thing holding you back is the fear of it hurting. The fear of regression, of dissociation.

Yet, still, your dream state forces you to promise. You’ll be everything that Jake needs you to be in time, and he will be the only person able to teach you how to love again, the only man that will touch you in a way that feels good.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

part two

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut

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mirohlayo · 2 months

Text

YOU STOLE IT

( what happens when lando reunites with the girl who stole his first kiss ? )

warning : a bit of jealousy, fluff, lot of fluff

note : i love this okay. i won't write a part 2 so no requests please !!

word count : 4.9k

Lando hasn't always been very lucky in love. While he separated from a failed romantic relationship, he now finds himself alone, surrounded by his friends who are experiencing their perfect love, alongside their soulmates.

This doesn't bother him that much, since he himself admitted preferring to concentrate on his sporting career and thus become one of the best F1 drivers. No girlfriend yet.

But when he has to endure all day long the sweet words that other drivers address to their lovers, when he himself can feel love in the air, it becomes difficult not to think about starting a new chapter, this time here happy and healthy. A chapter that will fill him with happiness, as he has never been before.

Is this decision of not having enough time to find a girlfriend in order to concentrate on sport actually an excuse to hide the pain and despair that is gradually beginning to nestle in his heart?

He tries as best he can to reassure himself, to convince himself that he doesn't need this feeling of being completely in love and devoted to a girl. But when he continues to be the third wheel among the couples his friends form, he comes to desire a relationship more than anything else.

And every time, he can't help but think of this girl. This pretty girl he met during his summer vacation when he was 16. She was divinely beautiful, her shy but bubbly personality made Lando's heart capsize in a unique way, his whole being was alarmed just by hearing her name.

They both had a wonderful vacation, just the two of them together. During these two summer months, they did not let go of each other, spending every day alongside each other. They had become so close and complicit that they proclaimed themselves best friends from their first meeting during a kart race where Lando was racing for his life.

And since that day, they both developed deep feelings for each other. At first it was innocent. And it still is, in fact. They just thought it was a deep friendly connection, that they were just friendly soulmates. That those little stolen smiles and tactile touches were just childish, and just affectionate.

But it turned out that his feelings were ultimately more than that. More than just a friendly relationship. Lando found himself falling in love with you so hard, so passionately that he regretted not asking for your number when you two suddenly said goodbye.

You were his first love. And you still are. He thought that with time, you would eventually slip out of his head, that he would eventually forget you and move on, that it was just a big embarrassing crush from his youth but that he wouldn't think about it anymore growing up.

But that is absolutely not the case. He hasn't stopped thinking about you for 8 years. Every day, even before going to sleep, the only person he thinks about is you, that little girl he was madly in love with before.

He knows it, he maybe denies it a little, but deep down he realizes that he still has feelings for you. Perhaps less intense, less ardent, but there is no doubt that his romantic feelings will double in strength if he meets you again one day.

Of course, the old relationships, flirts, that he had before were sincere and true. He liked these few girls, that he was even happy in his last relationship. But for all that, it was by stopping this relationship and these flirts that he realized that everything brought him back to you. No matter what girl he meets, the only one who will forever remain deeply anchored in his heart is you.

He knows now that you two were more than friendly soulmates. Well, at least from his point of view. He was absolutely unsure about your feelings, which is why during these summer vacations, he preferred not to tell you anything for fear of destroying such a pure and important friendship in his eyes.

But again, he finds himself thinking about you, about how everything would be different with you. It was by going through all these different relationships with girls that he understood that he had never felt anything as powerful as with you. All these girls don't give him even a quarter of what he felt for you back then. So, how will this feeling change when he has the opportunity to meet you again?

The warm air of Saudi Arabia blows gently through the driver's curly hair. Free practice will begin in a few hours now, so Lando is using this time cooped up in the garage, surrounded by his teammate and his racing team, to discuss about the car.

“Hello Oscar!!” Lando's teammate is welcomed by his girlfriend, Lily, who smiles lovingly at him. The interview with the team is over, and she took the opportunity to spend some time with her boyfriend Oscar. The second driver comes to wrap his arms around his lover, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Lando scoffs and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Can you do this in private please? In addition to be the third wheel, I have nausea coming on.”

Oscar mocks his teammate, still holding Lily tightly in his arms. “Mate, it’s not my fault you’re a failure in love.” The Brit stops himself from hitting him, before putting on his McLaren cap. “Need I remind you that I’ve been in a relationship before?” He says to him with a completely proud look. “Couple who ended up in a failure, by the way.” He remarks, pointing at him.

“I really loved her…” The curly pauses. “It’s just that there is someone who- no, nothing, forget what I've said” He grumbles and withdraws into himself. Oscar frowns, Lily now concerned about the situation. “What?” She questions him gently.

Lando refuses to face this situation and simply shrugs his shoulders and ends up running away to join Zack further away. He can't say more, he can't talk about this girl who obsesses him. The two lovers look at each other confused by the British's behavior.

Zack smiled as he saw Lando walking towards him. “Are you already tired of feeling love in the air?” He says in order to tease him, which works. “Stop with that, I don’t care if I’m in a relationship or not.” What a lie. Zack knows his driver is lying, but he doesn't bother him more than that, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“So, how are things going at Ferrari?” Lando asks to quickly change the subject, not wanting to face another charade about his catastrophic dating situation. The two men then turn towards the Ferrari garage, where they can see the two drivers and the mechanics. "They look like they have a really good car, that's all I can tell you. But that doesn't mean-"

But it's too late, the British Mclaren driver no longer listens to his boss. As the Ferrari mechanics and strategists set to work, he saw among this small crowd Charles alongside a girl. At first glance, he thought it was his girlfriend. But upon closer observation, the woman, who is facing away, has a little shorter hair and is smaller in stature. And her hair color reminds him of her.

The girl he's been hopelessly in love with for 8 years now. But it can't be real, right? Why would you be here at the free practice sessions, and even more so accompanied by Charles Leclerc? His eyes must surely be hallucinating. But that silhouette from behind reminds him so much of you. But he tries to reassure himself. Or rather convince himself that there are so many brown girls in the paddock that he has confused you with someone else.

“Are you still listening to me or not?” Zack's serious voice rang in his ears. "Uh, yeah, sorry..." "You must need some time alone, I think" A mocking but concerned smile takes its place on Zack's face. “Yes, I think I need a little rest, excuse me” Lando smiles at him with difficulty before his boss goes further away.

The driver takes a deep breath. He can't help but look away at Charles and that girl. The more he looks, the more he feels like he's going back 8 years and seeing the girl he loves in front of him. He needs to know. He needs to be reassured and to be sure if this girl is really you.

And as if fate had heard it, the woman disappears from the garage, and seems to be heading to the paddock. So the British guy doesn't miss this chance and almost runs behind her to follow her. A few people give him confused and questioning looks, but he continues to pursue this dark-haired woman who hypnotizes him.

As he gets closer to you, his heart beats harder and harder. He feels like he's going to burst out of his chest and this feeling of stress eating away at him makes him want to vomit. Because he is realizing that he may have found his first love again. His eternal childhood crush.

That all those nights lost looking for you on social medias, trying to find your account and reconnect with you may not have been in vain. That all those nights lost thinking about you for a long time before falling asleep may not have been wasted in vain. That all these memories of you that he replays in his head finally make sense.

So, he goes for it without a second’s hesitation. "Excuse me ?" He speaks a little hesitantly, afraid of ending up with a woman who doesn't know him. But when the girl turns around, her brown hair flowing in the air, her eyes meeting his, Lando's heart skips several beats.

He finally found you.

The look of shock and surprise on your face mirrors Lando’s perfectly. Neither of you knows how to react, so you stay stuck like this for what seems like an eternity. But it is during this moment that the air suddenly seems changed. As if a connection, which once existed, was finally present again. As if an invisible link had finally reconnected between you, and united you for eternity. This change in atmosphere makes Lando's heart beat a little harder.

It seems unreal. So unreal that he thinks he's dreaming for a moment. For years, he never stopped thinking about you. To wonder what had become of you, what you looked like. And here you are now in front of him, more radiant than ever. This supernatural trance finally breaks when you decide to speak.

"Lando?!...Lando!!" You can't help but smile with all your teeth, a smile so sincere and strong. And oh God he suffered so much for the last eight years without being able to admire your magnificent smile. He adores it so much that he dreams of framing it in his memory forever. He knows how weak he becomes every time he gets the chance to admire your smile.

He can't help the big smile that comes over him as well. He feels so many emotions inside him that he feels like he's going to explode with happiness. "Y/n! Oh it's really you, I can't believe it!!" He can't even hide his joy and excitement, which makes you smile more, although it already seems impossible considering your cheeks already tired from just smiling.

“Me either, I feel like I’m in a dream” You admit, still a little surprised. “I didn’t think you were going to recognize me to be honest” You tell him, trying to contain your bomb of joy. “How could I not recognize you, when you are literally the most precious person to me?”

This simple sentence makes you blush violently, as you try to hide your embarrassment. “Uh- well it’s been 8 years since we last saw each other, so I doubt I’m still your favorite person” You laugh sweetly, and the sweet sound melts his heart. “So don’t doubt anymore, because you really are y/n” He addresses these few words to you while looking into yours.

And that's when he realizes how much you've changed. But changed in an incredibly beautiful way. You have kept this divine beauty which never fails to take his breath away. Your sweet facial features, that beautiful smile that he can't help but be obsessed with, and just simply your face that he could gaze at for hours and hours without ever getting tired of it.

You were already very beautiful when you were younger, when you were teenagers. But now you are infinitely more magnificent and resplendent. You look much more mature, and much more feminine. He has the impression of seeing an angel, a goddess before him. And that too has not changed, you remain for him the most beautiful woman he has ever met in his entire life.

The same goes for you. He's grown up so much, he's no longer the immature but adorable little Lando you loved so much before. Now he's a real man. He is more muscular, more virile but above all he has retained this eternal beauty and attractiveness. His beard makes him look a lot older too.

And then his hair. You teased him back then because he had trouble combing his hair. But these beautiful silky and shiny curls make you want and want to play with them, to caress them until they are messy enough for you to style them again.

“I see that my karting races have brought you to the wonderful world of Formula 1” The driver then says in order to hide the fact that he has been gazing at you for a few minutes now. You chuckle, before nodding. “Yeah, it must be said that a certain Lando Norris passed on his passion for motorsport to me” He lets out a little embarrassed laugh before turning his attention back to you.

"But Lando Norris was replaced by his opponent apparently. Bad luck." Lando's eyes land on the monegasque Ferrari driver who joins the conversation, right next to you. His tone turns colder as he stares at Charles. He can't help but feel a pang - or rather a big pang - of jealousy at the idea that you potentially replaced him with the monegasque driver.

Maybe your heart finally fell for Charles? Maybe in the end you always preferred him. He can't get these assumptions out of his head, because they haunt him now and just thinking about them makes him even more jealous. How come you're as close to Charles as you once were to Lando?

"Wow, what a reunion! Y/n told me how you were best friends before" Charles smiles kindly, and Lando seems surprised by his words. “Did she really tell you?” He asks suddenly. You clear your throat, embarrassed by what you told your friend about your relationship with the Brit.

"Yes, she told me so many things about you. That you were her favorite boy - and still are, that she loved spending time with you so much, that she really found you adorable and cute-” “Hey shut up!!” You beg Charles, placing the palm of your hand over his mouth.

Lando feels himself blush violently upon hearing Charles' words. Is this really true? “Do you think I’m cute ?” He teases you gently, but you feel even more embarrassed that you end up pressing your hands to your cheeks to hide the already terribly apparent red color.

"And that's not all, I still forgot lots and lots of things... anyway, I'll leave you, work awaits me again" Charles ends up patting the Mclaren driver on the shoulder, before to give you a smile and walk away.

A silence falls for a moment. The atmosphere has suddenly changed, it's more tense. But tense because you now know that a more than ambiguous and friendly feeling has settled between you. Tension paralyzes you as you fight the urge to jump into each other's arms.

Lando finally clears his throat before looking into your beautiful eyes. “How did you meet Charles?” “I’m a friend of his girlfriend, and she introduced us.” You respond simply, staring at him intently. Until you notice that his eyes no longer support your gaze but attack your lips.

It makes you think of that moment. And it makes him think of that moment too.

He stared intently at your pink lips. He wonders if he can. If he has the right. If he can taste them again. To move his lips on yours, to see if they are as soft as they seem.

To relive this moment. This moment, which is undoubtedly the most beautiful of his memories, and even more the most beautiful day of his life.

England was probably now one of your favorite destinations. Maybe because you found your confidant there, your best friend, this boy as adorable as he was immature who dreamed of being a Formula 1 driver. But all good things come to an end, and you already knew that destiny had to separate your paths. That these two months of vacation spent alongside Lando will only be distant but happy memories of your adolescence, and that you will perhaps end up watching him race on TV, being only a spectator and no longer his childhood best friend.

Lando knew it too. He knew that you had to return to your homeland, because after all England was only the destination your parents had chosen for the summer holidays. But his heart was breaking, suffocating at the idea of letting you go, when he had just accepted the fact that you were for him, potentially the woman of his life. You couldn't suppress the feeling of apprehension and sadness, as each minute that passed reminded you of how much time you would miss, passing by at a crazy speed.

Sitting on large rocks on the beach, you both admired the beautiful sunset that was falling on this last day of vacation. Tomorrow, a new chapter would begin. So you wanted to fully enjoy your last moments with your secret lover, because you might never meet him again. Silence reigned, peacefully, while the sound of the insolent waves lulled your ears with a bitter melody. You hoped you could slow down time, or rather extend it, because he seemed so stingy and selfish about giving you a little more to even exchange your unspoken thoughts.

Suddenly, you felt the boy's gaze on you, a gaze so intense that you had to turn your head away to look at him the same way. A mischievous smile appeared on his thin lips, as he opened his mouth to say a few words to you. “You promised me a gift if I won my kart race. I’m still waiting for it, Y/n.” His eyes filled with mischief and impatience, as you remembered the promise you had made to him. He had won his karting race earlier in the day, and you had promised him a gift if he managed to win it. However, you didn't think it would be so easy, since you had secretly chosen a rather... surprising gift.

A kiss. Not on his cheek, his forehead, or even his temple. No, it was more than just a childish, awkward kiss. A real, quick kiss on his lips. You thought about it because, although you sincerely believed in Lando's phenomenal abilities, you didn't think he would end up on the top step of the podium so easily and quickly. And now you're in trouble. Lando continues to stare at you mischievously, still impatient to discover your precious gift. Your brain was no longer able to function, your heart was speeding up. Did you really have to go for it? Take the plunge and place your lips on his?

Lando's impatience and waiting were more evident, while you were still panicking inside. And then, that's when you understood. That there was only him in your heart, and that there was only one chance. Only one life to live it to the fullest, without regretting anything. That worst case scenario, you'll go home the next day, forgetting this stupid promise and action. That in the end, this vacation, this boy, and this kiss, will remain engraved as the most beautiful adolescent chapter of your life, and that you will remember it with full joy and nostalgia.

Then the next second, Lando was surprised to feel a pair of lips on his. The kiss only lasted a short second, yet long enough for him to feel a bunch of different emotions. His heart felt like it was stopping, just as his brain was trying to properly process what had just happened. A powerful, strange but sweet feeling came over the young British man. He had just received his first kiss, and even more so from the girl he loved desperately. As you pulled back to look into his eyes, his looked back at you, confused. But because he understood.

He understood that this was love. That he was destined to remain faithful to you, for the rest of his life, because that kiss was the promise that his heart would belong to you forever.

It's been a little over a week now since you and Lando got together. And these last few days have been filled with nostalgia, reunions and above all strong and intense emotions. After the Jeddah race, Lando asked you to spend time together. Finally, he secretly wanted to insinuate that he wanted to spend every minute of his time by your side. Like before, like eight years ago.

He had finally found his childhood crush, the woman he considered the love of his life, and so he wasn't going to let her escape so easily. Especially since this reunion made him rekindle these deep feelings that he had not lost, but balked at because he had come to the conclusion that he will never find you again. However, talking to you again, spending time with you made him feel the love he had for you, but so much more intense, so much stronger and more powerful.

He's never felt like this before with any other girl, he's never seen himself in this state. Completely and obsessively in love, desperate to receive your attention and stay with you. Finding you was a sentimental blow to him, while he found himself lost forever in your heart. Finding you sealed his heart in your hands for eternity.

“It was a great day.” You hasten to say as a pretty smile takes place on your face. The driver looks at you lovingly, as he nods his head in approval. “Especially when I beat you at karting. It was the best moment of the day” He teases you and you stare at him. "I drove into the barrier because you hit my kart with yours. It doesn't count" You try to defend yourself.

“It doesn’t matter, I still won.” He adds as you sit side by side on the warm sand of the beach. “Still as narcissistic as back then” You roll your eyes but don’t hide that teasing smile on your face. “Still the same Lando Norris that you loved so much” He adds, his eyes scanning the horizon in the distance.

You swallow with difficulty, a lump in your throat. “Loved uh…” You whisper to yourself. Raising your head, you are greeted by the sunset. A pretty sunset, the same one that accompanied you on that last day of vacation eight years ago. You can't help but feel this feeling of nostalgia, of happiness.

It's exactly the same pretty frame, and the same boy by your side. It reminds you so much of that beautiful day long ago. Your heart warms at the thought. You finally found the man you love so much, and you couldn't be happier than right now.

The waves play the same melody, but this time the melody is more beautiful. Brighter and strangely romantic. As you gaze at the clouds in the distance, you feel Lando's intense gaze on you. Exactly the same look he gave you back then. Then, as if you were rehearsing the same scene, like a play that you are performing to perfection, you turn around to lock your gaze with his.

And there, that famous mischievous smile takes over his lips. Eight years later, he has the same look, this smile that changed everything. "You forgot your promise again, like back then. I'm still waiting for it, y/n" His words hit you like a bomb. Because they are exactly the same ones he said to you the day you made that stupid promise to him. This stupid gift.

And as if you weren't stupid enough, you secretly thought of the same gift. You internally promised yourself that you would give him the same kiss if he managed to beat you in karting. And he did it, as if he had put all his soul into the race to deserve this surprise gift from you. You feel helpless as the same panic takes hold of you. Everything seems so unreal. This sweet memory will finally happen again.

You see his eyes drop to your lips for a split second. But it's that split second that changes everything about you. Now you know it's for life. That you found the boy of your heart, that you will never leave him again, even if he doesn't feel the same way as you. That you only have one life to regret nothing, and this childhood kiss you have never regretted. So you never want to regret it.

You smile shyly, and without him being able to do anything, you crash your lips onto his. Lando's eyes widen, but he finally realizes what's happening. And he doesn't wait any longer to move his lips to yours. But this time the kiss is totally different. It is no longer innocent and shy like it used to be. It's no longer a little kiss between two teenagers who promised each other a gift.

No, this time it's much more romantic. More intense, deep and passionate. It's so comforting and sweet. This kiss is the fruit of the unconditional love he feels for you. So, he continues to deepen the kiss, his hand delicately cupping your cheek while his arm comes around your waist.

He licks your bottom lip with his tongue before nibbling it gently, letting you completely devote yourself to him. He continues to kiss you passionately, but yet it's not vulgar or crude. It's a soft and pleasant kiss, where only love is exchanged between your lips.

You finally broke the kiss by pulling back, a shy smile matching your pink cheeks perfectly. He opens his eyes, a silly smile on his lips before quickly pecking your lips again. You stay like that for a moment, admiring each other for a long time, love in your eyes.

"I'm so fucking in love with you, baby. Not since yesterday, not since last week, no. Since ages ago, for so long that I've stopped counting." You smile at him tenderly, your cheeks still pink. "Me too, Lando. I've loved you since we first met."

He smiles wider as his arms pull you a little closer to him. "You know, you're the girl who stole my first kiss. And you're also the only girl who managed to steal my heart. My heart has been yours for eight years, since the very moment you took me kissed." You can’t help but giggle, which melts Lando’s heart. “I thought you stopped counting.” He scratches the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed. “Let’s just say I kept counting because I was desperate to know when I was going to find the woman I love.”

In the meantime he leaned over you, until you were lying on the soft sand. “Every day you were gone was like a bullet in my chest.” “What a romantic, I’m almost going to get emotional” You tease, a mocking laugh coming from you. “Still as teasing as before” He adds, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"For eight years, you were the only girl who never stopped staying anchored in my thoughts. From our first kiss, my heart already belonged to you, and it will continue to be yours for the rest of my life. I never wanted any other girl but you, and I waited so long for you that I'll never let you go. I love you so much, sweetheart” His words warm your heart, as you gently caress his face with your thumbs. “I’m completely in love with you too, Lan.” And in these last words, he rushes to kiss you again.

You feel like eight years ago, like the two idiots in love who stole their first kiss. Nothing has changed except the reality that reminds you that your love is bound for eternity, and that it will continue to exist because it is deeper and more passionate every day. That this is the present moment, and that your hearts are finally filled with happiness to have been able to find their other half, after so many years of desperately continuing to live without the presence of the other.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

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dadyscumslutprincess20 · 5 months

Text

Lost Love

(Small story I thought about doing until I write another request that I got, also be looking out I’m working on 4 request at a time then the rest at once💕)

Cha Hyun su x fem reader

Genre: Just a bit emotional

It’s been a year since you last saw Hyun su after trying his self into the military to keep the remaining survivors of Green Home safe , so we all would be able to saved and took to a shelter/camp that was meant for any survivors

Since then you lived with the regret of not telling him about the baby , both you and Hyun su moved in together in your first apartment at Green home , since you were a bit more social you made a few friends inside the building , but most of you time was spent with Hyun su

When the apocalypse started. Hyun su started to have serious noise bleeds , times where he would black out or there were even moments you felt like he want your Hyun su

After gathering with the remaining survivors you soon learned that Hyun su was a special case of the monsters that now roamed the city

After a while you found out you were pregnant, deciding it wasn’t the right time as you kept the pregnancy to yourself .. not knowing Hyun su would turn his self in the same night

Now here you were a year later with two beautiful children, a boy and a little girl , even though it’s been just a year they were already at the age of 12

Before giving birth to Cha Hee (son) and Cha Hui (girl) , you escaped from the shelter finding a small abandoned camper , the only joy out it was that it was two small rooms that had a full sized bed in both , a small kitchen and dining area that was in the middle and the driver seat that was locked right when you entered the camper

Your pregnancy was pretty easy we’re surprised you along the way , except that you felt your self changing as you started to hear a voice in your head , you belly barely as it looked like you were just bloated from a good meal or something, but you knew you were pregnant, the hardest part of the whole pregnancy was the birth , since you didn’t have any support, you ended up giving birth to the twins inside the camper in your small room , bring down on a spare dry towel you had to hold in your scrams as you gave birth to both Cha Hee and Ch Hui

After giving birth to the twins you noticed how much you’ve changed, your eyes had I slight hit of green with time making your neon eyes now look unnatural, you half grew a bit longer as you soon realized that you gave in to your desires , now becoming a monster but some how keeping it in control.. maybe it was because you had not one but two people to protect

After a few months after having Cha Hee and Cha Hui you soon realized that they weren’t exactly human either , as Cha Hee was born with bright blue eyes , Cha Hui was born with Green eyes

There was a few differences between the two as Cha Hee, he was a quite child , who could make a person go crazy after a certain amount of days soon resulting in their suicide or the death of everyone around them including them selves if you were lucky enough to stay on his good side he would use his touch to show your most happiest memories

Cha Hui was a bit different she was a cold child , always quietly analyzing others , but even though she seemed cold she was super nice once you got to know her , her touch could either set your ablaze as you scream in pain and agony or you could fall into a deep sleep that no one could wake you out of as you live out your deepest fears over and over again, but like her brother if your were no harm to her mother or Cha Hee she could show you your happiest memories ,you didn’t discover this until it happened in front of your eyes

After that you had Cha Hee and Cha Hui to keep on a special pair of gloves that were handmade by you, it made you feel a bit more safe if no one would discover there powers then any one would assume their normal kids , the only thing that would make any one realize their twins it their dark black hair that resembles Cha Hyun Su’s

As you laid in your bed as you start to realize that it’s been quite for a while now , thinking that the the twins were in bed as you stand to your feet , slowly walking out of your room and you peek into their room that was located on the right of yours

Seeing that the room was empty as you start to become slightly worried , heading for the kitchen finning area to see that they weren’t there either

‘Where are they’ the voice in stead your head says as you frantically search the camper a second time just to make sure , but when you saw they weren’t there you quickly open the doors to the camper heading down the three small steps as you head out the door looking left and right frantically as you run straight heading down the road as you call out both Cha Hee and Cha Hui’s names

Not getting a response from neither of your babies as you start to panic thinking of all the possible things that could have happened to them

What if they ran into humans? Or worse the military? , as your mind starts to cloud with questions that only made you panic more , you soon came to a hault as you heard a few giggles , looking around the area as you notice a small grader dome

Taking a small breathe in and out as you head inside the small dome , eyeing scanning around the flowers that bloomed with life , causing you to feel a bit calm but still worrying for you babies

After a while of walking down the small trail you come to a stop , as you feel your body tense up , confusion shown in your eyes

There was Cha Hee and Cha Hui.. but they weren’t alone , there stood Hyun su with a girl that seemed to be around the age of 14 as she talked to Cha Hui who had a small smile on her face , it took a while before Cha Hyun su noticed your presence , eyes locking with your as Ah-yo turned to see why Hyun su was so quite , eyes slowly following his as they land on you soon catching the attention of the twins

“MOMMY” Cha Hee screams out with joy as he runs toward you wrapping his arms around your waist with a smile

“Mom , look we made a new friend” Cha Hee says as pulls away from the hug grabbing a hold of your hand as he pulls you towards Hyun su , Ah-yi and Cha Hui as Cha Hui soon stand beside you wrapping her arms around you as she looks at Ah-hi and Hyun su

“This is Ah-yi and Hyun su” Cha Hee says as he points to both Ah-yi and Hyun su

“And this is our mom , Reader” Cha Hui says as she tightens her hold eyes still watching Ah-yi and Hyun su who eyes now look at you with pure shock

“M-Mom…” Hyun su says as his head hangs low , Ah- yi noticing the hurt in his voice , after a few seconds his head slowly rises eyes now shining blue as he gives you a cold stare

“ After everything we done for you.. to keep you safe , and you have some assholes child , correction children” Hyun su says eyes staring daggers in to yours as you feel a shiver flow down your spine

“I-It’s not like that” You reply as you look down down your feet not able to look him in the eye

“Wait..you know her” Ah-yo says as she looks between you and Hyun su in confusion

“I do actually in fact she’s our dear girlfriend, well was it seems” Hyun su says eyes now looking both at you , Cha Hee and Cha Hui

“I didn’t cheat okay.. I just..” you say looking back in to Hyun Su’s eyes tears now threading to fall

“I don’t know how to tell you and it was to late.. you let us alone” you managed to choke out as tears start to flow, Shock showing on Hyun Su’s face as he looks between Cha Hee and Cha Hui

“T-Their .. mine” Hyun su says eyes slowing turning to normal as he slowly falls to his knees , tears falsify flowing down his face as he looks at you with a sorry expression

“I-I didn’t mean to .. I-I just wanted to keep you safe..I..” before he could finish his sentence Cha Hee warped his in a warm hug as Cha Hui looks him in his teary eyes

“So .. your our father” Cha Hui says as her green eyes watches Hyu su closely as he slowly nods his head in agreement, slowly walking towards Hyun su as she slowly wraps her arms around him pulling him and Cha Hee in a hug

“I had a weird feeling .. it explains why we were okay with you keeping us company” Cha Hee says with apart smile

After a while of hugging , Hyun su informs you on Ah-yi and how he has been taking care of her since she was pretty much born , listening as Hyun su talks about Ah-yi like a proud father , which he was, he starts to feel guilty about missing his own kids growing up deciding to keep not only Ah-yo but you and both Cha Hee and Cha Hui close and safe

#black reader #fem reader #female reader #sweet home #sweet home 2 #sweet home imagines #x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyunsu #cha hyun su x reader #sweethomefanfic #sweet home x reader #sweet home fanfic #kdrama x reader

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forest-hashira · 3 months

Text

2 Be Loved

this has sat in my drafts for... idk exactly how long, a month at least, because i was trying to decide if i even wanted to post it here. i wrote this for myself when i was Going Through It with my depression. now that i've sat on it a while, and i've generally been doing better, i've decided it's time to go ahead and share this. i hope you all enjoy it, and that it brings you some level of comfort or reassurance if you need it 💜

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.4k | cw: gender neutral reader, plus size reader, mental health issues (reader is in a depressive episode), emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end, really this is very self ship coded

You’d spent practically the whole day in bed. And the day before that, and the day before that, and probably the day before that, too. You’d lost count, honestly; all the days bleeding together and blurring in the fog of your mind.

This was far from the first time this had happened, and you knew it would also be far from the last. Your emotional state had been a rollercoaster for most of your life, and had only become more volatile in the last few years. You would be fine, until you suddenly realized you were decidedly not fine, with some realizations being more gentle than others.

Like this time, for example. You hadn’t suddenly buckled under the weight of the world, but instead had woken up one morning and felt paralyzed; even just the idea of getting out of bed, for any reason, felt insurmountable. So you simply… didn’t. You stayed in bed and slept between episodes of your favorite TV show, grasping for anything that might stop you from sinking further into the depths of your depression.

Satoru had been as patient as ever, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispering a little “I love you,” before he’d left for work. He knew you struggled this way sometimes, and had never been anything but supportive and loving. Suguru had called in “sick”, opting to spend the day taking care of you, which mostly consisted of slipping in and out of sleep all day and occasionally bringing a snack from the kitchen. Satoru had joined you back in bed as soon as he got home from work, effectively squishing you between himself and Suguru, where you were helpless to do anything but let them love you.

It had reduced you to tears, shoulders shaking as ugly, half choked sobs tore themselves from your chest. They had let you cry, not rushing to try and quiet you as they might have done when they were younger; they let you get it out of your system, only stepping in to comfort you when you started to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you’d cried, eyes shut tight as you tried to avoid their gaze. “I’m sorry I’m…” you’d struggled for words then, losing them between your hiccuping sobs and the darkness that clouded your mind.

“I’m too much,” you’d come up with eventually. “My emotions are too messy, and my mind doesn’t work right… I feel like all I do is cause problems for both of you. Like all I do is hold you back and drag you down.”

You hadn’t seen the look they’d exchanged, the pain that pinched their features, but you had felt the way they pressed in closer, as if they could crush the depression out of you.

“You are not too much,” Satoru had murmured, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his cerulean eyes sparkling in the low light from the lamp on your bedside table. “You could never be too much, not to me – to us.” His thumb brushed lightly along your cheekbone, delicately wiping the tears from your skin even as they were replaced with more. “We love you so much, y’know? I love you so much. Taking care of you is not a chore, or a burden.”

You’d shaken your head, unable to believe his words. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“But we do,” Suguru had been the one to speak that time. “You mean it when you tell me the same thing when I’m depressed, right?”

“Of course I do.” There wasn’t any hesitation as the words left your lips. “Taking care of you is a privilege.”

“Then why can’t you believe we feel the same way about taking care of you?”

His words had left you reeling, so much so that you almost didn’t hear Suguru when he continued.

“Satoru’s right, angel. I love you. We adore you, and we want to take care of you. Always.”

As Suguru had hugged you tighter with one arm and pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, he’d placed his other hand on your white haired lover’s hip, keeping him as close as possible. Satoru had been eager to oblige, snuggling into you as much as possible. He’d brushed your hair from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead, one hand cradling your face while the other reached across you to settle on Suguru’s hip. They had effectively caged you in, both with their bodies and with their love. It had shattered you, reduced you to tears again, but they hadn’t minded; they were there to hold you together, to pick up the pieces when you couldn’t do it alone.

Through some unspoken agreement, your boys switched places the next day; Suguru had gone into work while Satoru had called out “sick” to take care of you. They did their best not to leave you alone for too long whenever they could help it, but they could only get away with calling out sick when everyone knew the two of them were perfectly healthy; when the higher ups knew that you were the one keeping the two special grades and teachers from fully doing their jobs.

A few days passed with your lovers taking turns staying home with you, until one day they both called out to stay home, though you didn’t realize that at first, since Suguru was quick to return to you in bed, holding you close as you drifted off again, faintly away of the sound of the front door closing and locking before you were fully asleep.

When you woke up again, the first thing you were aware of was the fact that you were alone in bed. At almost the same moment, though, you heard music coming from what you guessed what the kitchen, though you couldn’t quite tell, since the bedroom door was shut; wherever it was coming from, it was definitely upbeat pop music, so you knew for certain Satoru was the one who had turned it on.

With no small amount of effort, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes for a moment and yawning before you crawled off the bed on Satoru’s side. You shuffled over to the dresser then, opening drawers and grabbing clothes pretty much at random. You wound up in a black sweatshirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants, both of which were at least two sizes too big for you, which even your fuzzy brain knew meant they weren’t actually your clothes; they belonged to your two giants of lovers.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the nightstand, grabbing one of Suguru’s hair ties to pull your hair out of your face with, and, after a deep breath, you decided to brave the kitchen.

Opening the door to the bedroom allowed you to fully hear the music that was playing, and you were a little surprised to realize it was in English, rather than Japanese. Satoru liked to listen to anything that was happy and upbeat enough, but he – understandably – had a bit of a preference for J pop music.

Still a little surprised by the music choice and a little foggy from sleep, you make your way to the kitchen in a bit of a daze. Both Satoru and Suguru were in the kitchen: Suguru at the counter, mixing something in the stand mixer, while Satoru danced around to the music, occasionally trying to steal a bit of whatever Suguru had in the mixing bowl, and being effectively swatted away every time. You stood in the doorway for a few moments in silence, just watching them in utter adoration.

Eventually, though, Satoru noticed you, and he got a bright grin on his face as he raced over to you. “You got out of bed!” he gushed, wrapping you up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, mochi,” he murmured against your scalp, and something about the nickname in combination with the praise made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle right then and there.

Just as suddenly as he had engulfed you in a hug, the white haired sorcerer was releasing you, lunging for where he’d left his phone on the counter by the bluetooth speaker he was using for the music. You watched curiously as he opened his playlist, hastily skipping through a handful of songs before he got to the one he was apparently looking for. Seeming pleased with himself, he made sure the song was playing, turned the volume up a little bit, then turned back to you with that sparkling grin of his.

You blinked in surprise when you heard the singer’s voice, and you looked up at him with a look of complete bafflement. “I didn’t know you listened to Lizzo.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “No, baby, you gotta listen to the lyrics!” he insisted, taking your hands and doing a very small little dance with you right there in the doorway.

Though part of you wanted to argue, you had never been good at resisting your energetic lover, and this time was no exception. Before you even nodded, Satoru already knew you’d given in to him, and he pulled you a bit closer to himself as he started singing along with the lyrics. And not quietly, either: he sang them with all the enthusiasm in his body, and though you hated to admit it, it was contagious, even in your depressed state.

By the end of the first verse, you were smiling, a small laugh escaping you at your lover’s almost puppyish behavior. When the chorus came around, you started singing along as well, and you noticed belatedly that Satoru was singing the lines of the background singers, rather than the main chorus, like you were.

“Am I ready?”

“You deserve it now.”

“‘Cause I want it!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Am I ready?”

“You gon’ figure it out.”

“To be loved, to be loved.”

Your singing faltered then, and you stared up at Satoru for a moment, suddenly realizing why he’d picked this song to serenade you with. He stopped singing as well, smiling gently down at you as he watched you fit the puzzle pieces together in your mind.

“We’ve always been ready to love you.”

The sound of Suguru’s voice from behind you caused you to startle a bit, but you looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Are you ready to let us love you again?” His tone held no resentment, no bitterness, only gentle adoration, and you were certain that if Satoru didn’t still have a solid grip on your hands, you would have sunk to your knees with the overwhelming realization of how much these two men adored you, despite how much your mind sometimes tried to convince you they shouldn’t.

Unable to find your voice, you nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment as Suguru leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but just a few seconds later, Satoru was tugging you back into his space, spinning you around so your back was to his chest. The song was still playing and he was apparently still determined to get you to dance with him.

Suguru laughed softly at his lover’s antics, shaking his head slightly at Satoru and offering you a slight shrug when you looked up at him for some sort of explanation.

Now the subject of Satoru’s whims, you allowed him to dance around the kitchen with you in his arms, still singing along with the song, though now his volume was lower, as he sang the words down at you. You smiled, allowing yourself to get lost in the warmth of his love, even if his fingers were cold where they wrapped around your own.

“He call me Melly, he squeeze my belly.”

Your eyes flew open as Satoru sang the words, his chilly hands coming down to squeeze at the soft flesh of your stomach, the touch pulling a rather undignified squeak from your lips, but he just continued to beam down at you. He wasn’t going along with the lyrics of the song to make fun of you – he’d expressed to you enough times that he adored the soft pudginess of your body for you to know he meant it – but it still surprised every time he made sure to pay special attention to the squishier parts of you.

The sound of your squeak pulled another laugh from Suguru, and though at first you were planning to glare at him, you couldn’t go through with it; not when his expression was full of so much love and relief. He crossed the kitchen to reach you again, whatever was in the mixer long forgotten in favor of you. When he reached out for you, going to him was easier than breathing. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as he swayed around the kitchen with you. The movement didn’t match the energy of the song at all, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were safe and secure in his arms, and Satoru had enough energy for all three of you; it was impossible not to watch him as he danced around the kitchen, white hair and blue eyes shining, and he flashed you that brilliant grin of his every time he caught your gaze.

Things weren’t suddenly perfect; Lizzo and dancing in the kitchen was not a magical fix-it for the irregularities in your emotional state, but it was certainly a stepping stone back to your normal. And you knew, without any doubt in your mind, that you would have the support and full confidence of your lovers behind you every step of the way. They were your way back to yourself, after all. Suguru was your anchor in stormy seas, tethering you to something real, something sturdy; Satoru was the lighthouse calling you home when the waters calmed enough for you to move again.

i hope you guys have enjoyed seeing some of my other stuff i hadn't yet shared here! though i can't promise when i'll have anything new, know that i am working on things now + am preparing things for my upcoming milestone event!!! take care of yourselves as best you can 💜. divider by cafekitsune

tagging: @kentohours @mitsuristoleme @marinnnnnnnnn @witchbybirth @peachdues

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months

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♥️ Ranking Richonne

#3: Have Your Mints (S6E10)

✨TOP 3!✨

Wow. 😍 Let’s just start there. Oh this moment is perfect and I wouldn’t have Rick and Michonne officially become Richonne any other way. This is one of those mesmerizing scenes that is guaranteed to make my heart flutter every time I see it no matter how many times I’ve seen it. The joy radiating from them in this extremely significant moment is beautiful to behold. This scene set off a 'canon' heard around the world and history was made as Rick and Michonne finally let all that love and desire for each other completely pour out. Three words best describe this gorgeous scene to me - euphoric, soul-stirring, and, of course, iconic...

With so much build-up from season 3 to this moment on their living room couch, it was perfect that all it took was some mints and finally holding hands for all that blazing passion between Rick and Michonne to be released.

After nine months of knowing each other, it was time for Richonne's canon era to be born. 🥳

And if you wanna talk about scenes that are instrumental to the making of Richonne, few are more instrumental than this one right here, where the two joyously embrace that the love of their life has been right in front of them all this time. 🥹

Ok so first, I quickly want to talk about the beautiful scene between Carl and Michonne on their porch in this ep. It is such a sweet profession of the love those two have for each other and their mother/son bond, and I adore that Judith was included in this scene too.

I always think about how Michonne and Carl hug at the end of the scene, but I had forgotten Judith is right there in that hug too. And I love this moment because it’s this great visual of the way Michonne is so clearly the Grimes matriarch to these two children. They’re hers. 🥰 She loves them so much and it’s clear they love her so much too (Also my ears hear that adorable baby girl say 'Michonne' at the start of this scene every time lol 😂)

And this moment with her Grimes kids just really makes it feel like all that’s left is for Michonne to embrace that she also has a whole Grimes husband waiting for her too. And thank goodness that’s exactly what is embraced at the end of the episode. 🤗

It’s always so telling that the scene starts with Rick clearly tired but plopping down on the couch instead of just going to bed. He’s waiting for her.👌🏽

And Michonne was waiting for him too as she entered with the baby monitor. Like Danai said, Michonne wants Rick home. 🥰

I adore the way this whole episode establishes the deep comfortability Rick and Michonne have built with each other. Like their morning and night routine in this ep just shows they really feel at home with each other.

I love how she gently kicks him and says move and, of course, this has Rick looking more awake as he gets up to make room for her on the couch. I like getting this insight into how they’ve spent these last two weeks and how Rick and Michone clearly enjoy starting and ending the day together. 🥰

And then I love that she sits so close to him on the couch and shows him their daughter practicing crawling in her crib. And the way they both smile and move their heads in sync. PARENTS. (Also just imagine them looking at a baby monitor of RJ together 😭😭😭)

I love Rick saying, "it’s good to be home" and that Michonne agrees - and truly home is more than four walls and a roof, home is with each other, and Rick and Michonne know it.

Rick is such a family man, and I love how he cherishes these familial moments just being home with her and their kids. It’s painful knowing he’s gone without that for several years when what he wants most in life is to be with them.

Side note: I just have to say, I feel like what Rick stans who dismiss Michonne and their kids tend to miss is that all that cool warrior stuff Rick does is stuff he does because he has to. And it's super entertaining and we all love him for it absolutely, but he savagely throws down like that cuz he has no choice in their world. When he’s at home decompressing with Michonne or having family fun days with her and his kids - this is the stuff Rick does because he wants to. Like this is who he most wants to be. Having these moments with them is what drives the character and motivates all those cool action moments that Rick-only stans love. His wife and kids are his "why" and the "why" is vital because it makes "what" the characters do matter. Rick's wife and kids are why he keeps going and keeps fighting. And that’s a big reason why I celebrate that Rick found such a wonderful love story and family with Michonne because it’s what this protagonist most wanted. A character’s core want is so important to a show. And what is always made clear is that what Rick wants at his core is Michonne and their family. So we love him so much for being a fighter but we also adore him for being who he truly is - which is a devoted family man. And if you really want the character of Rick Grimes to win in this story, then you don’t just want him to win the battles. You want him to have what he wants. And again, what Rick Grimes wants is Michonne Grimes and their family. That can't be denied. That can't be overlooked. And when anyone tries to dismiss it...Rick's character happily re-reminds everyone of this every chance he gets.👌🏽

Knowing how much family is a part of Rick and Michonne's core wants and needs, contributes to why it's so rewarding seeing the two finally go after what they most want in this 6.10 canon ep. 😌

I love the Richonne tones as they talk but don’t talk about their days cuz they both are open to hearing about the other's day but are on the same page about wanting to just relax for a bit.

Whenever Rick and Michonne are alone together there is often this desire to just be present in the moment which I appreciate. And just their ease as they decompress together - you know it means so much to them to have found a bond like this with someone who makes you feel safe, heard, and comfortable in this broken world.

Like to turn your brain off for a minute in the apocalypse is such a rarity, and it's refreshing that they can do that with each other. 😊

The way they can just sit side by side and silently enjoy being in each other's presence in the calm and quiet here - that’s real love. Also, Michonne’s curious face when Rick then dishes the mints out of his pocket will always make me smile. 😋

Rick says, "got you something" and hands Michonne the mints and I love the way it’s shot with the emphasis on their hands. It reminds me of the emphasis on their hands in Clear when she handed him a bullet and a spark was so clearly felt. And now, seasons later, they will finally act on that spark. 🙌🏾✨

It’s precious the way Michonne playfully takes the mints and the laugh they share, with Rick clearly happy that he could make her smile with this. I always liked that bringing home the mints was Rick caring to not just fulfill a survival need, but a personal want that Michonne had. He loves her, y’all. 🥰

And it’s sweet that at this point, Rick did this with zero ulterior motives. He didn’t know this would be the night. (Even tho earlier in this ep he does happen to tell Daryl "today is still the day" or something, which made me laugh cuz uh...little did he know😋)

As they smiled over mints on this couch, it was clear that making Michonne happy was the sole goal. And Rick seems genuinely pleased to have achieved it. 👌🏽

This moment also just made me think back to when Michonne playfully teased Rick with a razor in season 4, and Rick sorta had this nervous energy as he gave a little smile. For seasons, Michonne has always been the best at reminding Rick to smile, and what's sweet is that in this canon ep, Rick doesn't just do shy smiles anymore - no, now he grins from ear to ear over Michonne. 😊

And their banter is just the best as she amusedly asks if this is instead of the toothpaste and he playfully says yeah then tells her he actually did have a whole crate of toothpaste for her it’s just currently at the bottom of a lake.

I always love that he says he had a crate of toothpaste "...for you." I knew when Rick found toothpaste in that truck his first thought was Michonne, and I love that he can never help but reveal that she and her wants are important to him.

It is beyond sweet that in this world, Rick’s romantic heart still manages to gift Michonne and find ways to make her smile. Real one. I'll always love that he's so aware of how special she is. Rick gets gifts for Michone because he knows she is such a gift to him. 🥹

Then I adore the way Michonne looks at him as he hints at the whole lake debacle and then forever love her saying, "Oh so you had a day?" 😋 They are the best, and I like how they can really show their personality with each other. And Danai's delivery was perfect yet again.

Rick says, "Yeah all on account of your dental hygiene," and I love that one thing Rick Grimes is always going to find time to do from season 3 forward is flirt with Michonne. Apocalypse be damned lol.

And Michonne smiles, clearly a smitten kitten by that man Rick cuz who wouldn’t be. And Rick has these little content glances over at her as he smiles upon seeing her happy. 🥹 Again, her happiness genuinely means something to him, and I appreciate these loving glances for further conveying that.

And as Rick smiles, it really feels like it’s him knowing, not subconsciously but cognizantly knowing, that he’s in love with her.

No speculation needed. He's in love, your honor. 😌

And because those magnets can’t ever be denied, Rick proceeds to pat Michonne's hand and say, "Have your mints." And then Michonne ever so gently takes his hand.

And that’s all it took for history to be made. 🥳🎉

Truly the sparks between Rick and Michonne had been so strong for so long that all it took was a single moment of them actually letting a moment of touch linger for the fireworks to be set all the way off.

Like the shot focuses on the handhold, but had their been footage of R&M's hearts in this moment it would have for sure looked like this...

And I love how after Rick makes the move to touch her, Michonne takes his hand, and then Rick is ready for those mints to exit stage left as he more than reciprocates in fully holding her hand.

Once again their hands gave a great performance of their own, cuz this handhold really told a story. 👌🏽

Like starting with Rick instinctually patting her hand in this innate need to touch her and Michonne instinctually taking his hand as though she was no longer resisting what felt most natural for her to do.

And then the two of them letting this touch linger a bit as tho they have a decision to make at this moment - just pass this off as a (fiery) fleeting moment or not let go and instead let what is meant to be finally be.

You see Rick then initiate in showing he doesn’t want to let go as he more deliberately holds her hand. And I love that by not letting go of each other's hand, it’s all the two needed to know that in a figurative sense they also never want to let go of each other. 🥹

Then the way they stay looking into each other's eyes, communicating so much without words before they lean in - it’s beautiful and lets you know that what they're about to do is such a meaningful, personal, long-time-coming moment for both of them.

Michonne looks over at him, and I’ve noticed that for several TWD reactors, her look here is when they realized Rick and Michonne have not in fact been 'uggin' bumplies' before this moment and that what they’re about to do is actually a first.

So much of R&M's behavior in this ep made it clear they’d been a couple for a while. This physical part of the relationship was really just the final piece of the marriage puzzle finally locking into place.

The way Rick smiles right at her while looking so sure about this. 😍 Like there’s just zero uncertainty about how he feels about her. He knows confidently that she is what he wants. They say when you know, you know - and Rick knows. She's the one for him. He's been knowing.

Then it's precious that in this shot of Michonne, you can practically see the exact moment she realizes in Rick's eyes that he's been wanting this just as much as she has. Danai plays this moment just before the kiss so well, communicating everything with her eyes.

So then Michonne smiles at him with those pretty eyes glowing as they finally lean in for their iconic first kiss.

🤩😍🤩😍😭🤩😍🤩😍😭🤩😍🤩😍😭🤩😍

Now you know it's physically impossible to not happy dance real quick. i gotta do it. 😋

This first kiss is absolute GOLD. 🔥

I really do see that “of course” moment that Andy and Danai talked about cuz it just looks like they’re thinking of course it’s always been you.

As I’ve said before, to me this couch moment is not where Rick and Michonne first realize their own feelings for each other, as I think they been knew that, especially within the last two weeks - but rather this couch scene is where they finally realize, at the exact same time, that the feeling is very much mutual.

So still holding hands, Rick and Michonne lean in for that kiss that is utter perfection and just keeps getting better.

I love that Richonne's canon era started with a handhold that unsurprisingly turned into the most passionate first kiss of all damn time. 😊

And y'all, I’m watching this scene back to write this post, and I have to admit the moment they first kiss I literally gasped like it’s not my thousandth time seeing this moment. 🤭 Just goes to show...

I love the way the kiss starts off just so slow and intimate and of course ramps up. Cuz you know once these soulmates open this door it ain’t ever closing again.

Every good adjective comes to mind when thinking of this kiss. And let me tell you, this is the first kiss of two people who have wanted to kiss each other for a long time. 💯

Also, the fact that this was the actors not wanting to overthink it and just let the moment play out as organically as possible and this is the level of passion that came from that...no words. Just applause.

I adore everything about this equally hot and heartfelt moment. The natural progression. The quietness and the music. The way they can’t stop looking at each other. The way they can’t stop smiling at each other. (Their smiles throughout might be my favorite part. #PureBliss.) The unscripted impromptu moment the show kept in between Andy and Danai, with 'Rick' gently saying wait a minute because his gun holster was in the way, and 'Michonne' laughing. (The best soulmates are best friends too, and I feel like their reaction to this little 'hiccup' moment inadvertently ended up nicely reflecting that. 😊)

The way they so intently and lovingly take each other in. The way they both equally feel like “finally.” The steamy passion as it goes from a first kiss to more.

The hunger for each other. 🔥 (Especially from Slick Rick. Truly, I forget sometimes that we’d ever seen Rick kiss before this because the passion Michonne brought out of that man was different in the best way. 👌🏽 And I love that the second Rick had the greenlight, he let Michonne know exactly how much he's been yearning for her).

The way it was so clear that this person in front of them is their best friend but also is so much more - this person is their soulmate, the greatest love of their life. 😭

It was and is amazing to see the immense love and desire they have for each other pour all the way out after all the build-up throughout the previous seasons. I'm forever in awe.

And no matter who claims to not see the chemistry (which to me requires an urgent optometrist appointment if someone still can't see it tbh) it'll always be factual that the characters of Rick and Michonne deeply love and desire each other in every possible way.

This special scene immediately proved that all that chemistry and tension sensed from Rick and Michonne pre-canon was not only really there but would be amplified perfectly once they acted on it.

Whenever I think about Richonne's story from the very beginning to this canon moment here, it never fails to warm my heart and make me emotional because it is just absolutely moving that their journey led them to each other in this way.

This moment will forever be beautiful and a big deal both for the characters, the series, and honestly for television as a whole. #NotAnExaggeration.

The scene was a gorgeous moment of love prevailing in a show that is more often grim and gruesome. And it's a rewarding moment for these two characters to receive a major win by officially letting their romance ascend to new heights as they embrace being the married couple they've been for the longest.

Richonne's canon moment more than delivers and even gives us a bit more when they cut to that work-of-art scene featuring Rick and Michonne asleep in bed together, all tangled up cuz magnets don’t ever quit even when they’re sleeping. 🧲😊

And even with Jesus' bold self barging into their room, they both show that the Get Things Done Grimes are still ready to stand on business at a moment's notice when they swiftly hop out of bed with their signature weapons.

See, Rick and Michonne are great at being the cutest love birds, but they're also great at being...

We got us a ship that can do both. 😋

And while Gimple was behind my least favorite decision the show ever made - killing Carl (😞) - he's also behind my absolute favorite decision TWD ever made by putting Richonne together as a romantic couple. So Gimple, for your Richonner heart, I'm grateful. 👌🏽

Also, hearing Andy and Danai discuss this whole couch moment is truly as swoon-worthy as the scene itself. Like every time I come across their heartfelt reflections on this moment, my heart completely melts. 😍

Again, we’re so fortunate to have Danai and Andy as both the talented actors bringing these characters to life and as the passionate, thoughtful captains of this glorious ship. The way they always value and champion Richonne is just the best. 🥰

Everything about Rick and Michonne's iconic canon ep let us know that the power couple to end all power couples was finally here and here to stay. And I will always treasure this impeccable, beautiful, passionate, and game-changing scene where Richonne officially took flight. 🥳💜

#richonne #we've really gone from celebrating richonne going canon to now 8 years later celebrating a whole richonne spinoff 😭 - blessed beyond belief #top 30 #top 3 #number 3 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #iconic #twd 6.10 #twd towl #the ones who live

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introspectivememories · 4 months

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obsessed with the idea of timbern baby. like it starts in the cult and bear finds this kid, literal child, in the cult and y'know he may be a depressed and suicidal bastard but he's not so far gone that he's just gonna ignore a literal child (let's call him luka) in the pain cult. and bear's been rising through the ranks, so he smuggles luka out and tells (read: lectures) him to stay out. except this is the first time anyone's ever really cared about luka, so luka just latches onto bear.

eventually bear starts letting luka stay over at his apartment bc whoever was taking care of the luka before clearly doesn't care if he was left unsupervised enough to join a pain cult. so it becomes this kind of family unit. bear wakes up, wakes luka up, drops luka off at school, then goes to class, comes home and makes some food so luka has smth to eat after school, fucks around with the cult for a few hours, and then goes home and tries to avoid luka's concerned glances. wash, rinse, repeat.

and this is going well for a good few years and then senior year of college, everything goes into overdrive. bear who has risen through the ranks of the cult has been chosen for the sacrifice and yeah, luka will be sad when he dies or whatever but he's got money set aside for luka. luka can live on without him.

and then tim comes back into his life. tim drake from high school. his tim drake. darla's tim drake. their tim drake. who likes skateboarding and photography and is maybe a little too serious about mario kart. tim drake comes back and for a brief, weightless, moment, bear thinks he can do this. he can do this life thing and want to live. he can take care of luka and watch him graduate and be friends with tim again. he can stop blowing off the people at school who want to be friends with him. he can live again.

and then, like he does with everything, he ruins it. luka sees him off on the night of his "not-date" with tim drake with a teasing shout of "don't put out on the first date dad!" bear whacks him upside the head. the not-date goes really well right up until the fucking cult kidnaps him and preps him over the course of the next few days for the sacrifice. as he greets the pain like an old friend, all he thinks in between the haze of getting whipped is that luka must be going out of his mind with worry. and then they have him strapped to the altar and he lets the wine they're practically waterboarding him with take him away. his leader raises the knife and bear relaxes. this is where he was always meant to be. he has no other purpose than to be the vessel. it's not like he meant much anyway.

and then, robin is bursting onto the scene and punching the leaders in the face and somewhere in between kicking ass and taking names, bear realizes he wants to live. like for real, for real. he wants to wake up tomorrow. he doesn't actively want to die. he wants to see luka walk the stage at his high school graduation. he wants to hear tim drake laugh one more time. so he lets robin save him and then goes home and lets luka sob and fuss over him as bear promises to be a better parent.

and that's it he thinks. he definitely scared tim off with the whole getting kidnapped and being part of a cult thing. it's okay, he tells himself, at least you got tim back for a little while. but then tim is showing up at his door like a week later and he wants to go on a proper date?? like an actual date. bear is overjoyed but wary. tim drake is tim drake-wayne and bear is bernard dowd who has been consistently fucking up his life since his best friend got shot and died in high school. he figures that this thing between them will last maybe what, 4 months, before tim realizes he can do better.

except it lasts long than 4 months. it goes on for almost a year before bear realizes that tim is here to stay. well, fuck, now he has to tell his boyfriend that he has a kid. lord knows, luka wants to meet him too. so he texts tim one day, can we talk? and tim shows up at the cafe nervous and panicky. and bear just fucking blurts it out. i've got a kid. he says.

what? tim replies. i've got a kid. like a kid i'm raising. like a son. he says. so you're not breaking up with me? tim asks slowly. what? no! and so he explains the whole situation and tim just laughs a little hysterically and goes how does this happen twice? except now tim wants to meet his kid. so bear brings him over and to put it gently, it's a fuckin disaster. luka hates tim. tim spends the next year trying to get into luka's good graces. it only works when bear gets kidnappped for umpteenth time and tim spends the two weeks bear is missing for, taking care of luka and spending lots of his considerable fortune getting bear back.

#what even is this #im going crazy #save me timbern baby save me #for a second i was like mpreg? and then god came to me in a vision put his hand gently on my shoulder and said '...nah dont do that'#so i didn't #they are the family of all time to me #tim immediately becomes bruce and alfred's favorite cause tim is the first to give them a grandchild #dick: hey yknow me and kori have been together a long time! i should be the favorite #dami: yeah and how many proposals have you fumbled richard?#dami: marry the tamaranean and then start talking #dc #bernard dowd #tim drake #timber #timbern

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halfdeadfullgay · 7 months

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Here’s that Danny Phantom fic that I started like two months ago. It’s mainly a crack fic treated seriously that I lost motivation to continue writing. I might come back to it later idk. Anyways ignore this hot mess of a fic as it just bounces around with no real plot lol

ignore any inaccuracies with dc comics or out of character writing this really is just a crack fic, definitely not beta read or proof read

404 - Title Not Found

Part 2 - Tumblr Part 3 - Tumblr

Ao3

Where to start with the Ghost King’s story? Most ghosts already knew at least a bit from hunting him down in his earlier years, way before he was able to clam the crown but now Clock Work was telling Danny that he could either make a mythos version or have the actual story of how a halfa became Ghost King, The Ruler of The Infinite Realms be told for as long as he ruled.

Out of all things that came with being Ghost King, he didn’t expect to be told to that he could mostly make up the story of how he even got to the crown.

Danny with the help of his sister and friends; made his story. It was mostly truth. How he defeated Phriah Dark, the many fights with ghosts and then calming the crown when he turned 18. There were parts that were completely fake. Mainly how he became a halfa. He didn’t want to have the portal accident be connected to him more than it was. He had accepted the way the accident would follow him around. Not just being the whole reason he was Phantom but the pain that still lingered.

When human, he would get shaky, phantom (no pun intended) pains all ever, along with some effects that were easier to manage. At first he didn’t understand the phantom pain, he still had all his limbs but after talking to Vald, who had surprisingly chilled out and stopped messing with Danny(for the most part), it had to due with the fact that he was dead. His whole body thought that one part was dead every other hour almost, sometimes the whole thing.

He had gotten used to it, well as much as he could. Obviously he had the mental side affects to deal with too. Sometimes he would nightmares of some of the more tougher fights. His friends and CW thought that the nightmares were because of Phara Dark and the portal accident. Of course some were but there others too. Mainly Spectra’s mosquito epidemic including the “hospital” and Nocturn.

Being stuck in what should be your desired reality along with everyone’s and seeing all your classmates including your own sister slowly become sick with some kind of ghost virus is the kind of shit that sticks with you. He tried to avoid most nightmares by staying in ghost form but just like when he would be forced to his human half from exughst in a fight; the same would happen with the more sleep he missed.

Sam once asked him if he blamed her for the accident. Of course, he didn’t. No one knew what could’ve happened. While he held no blame for Sam, he blamed himself sometimes when things got bad.

Today was like any other, do some basic royal stuff and then visit other realms/places in the human world to see how the ghosts that resided there were treated. He had gotten use to all the moving over the last few years. He typically loved going to other realms. It was a break for the most part. A break from being King, a break from being Phantom and a Fenton.

Though today was different. He was to visit Gotham, the city said to be alive itself. He lived there when he wasn’t in Amity or the ghost world but hadn’t been back in a while due to problems in Amity.

Living in gotham was an easy way to watch a lot of the dead that roamed there. Particularly a specific living dead who had came back a few years ago. Danny was supposed to see how the pit rage progressed and if it was still affecting years later. Danny had ask CW if he had to since the lazura pit had been around for quite awhile, didn’t they already know and because of the fact that it was creepy to basically stalk someone. He was just told that everything changes and it’s best to always double check.

Now he was invisible and moving through the shadows of Crime Alley. He watched the tops of buildings and alleys. He had chosen Crime Alley as a place to live when human. He knew that the living dead he was supposed to watch had claim over Crime Alley so it was easy to watch. He was careful to not interfere with any part of Crime Alley.

He would stop something if he saw it but knew not to mess with someone else’s haunt too much. Although Danny thought it was creepy, Red Hood was an interesting one to watch. Danny picked up on the fact that Red Hood liked Night Wing but disliked the Batman. Sure Danny could just figure out his identity but that a. be more creepy and b. that would ruin the fun.

But he had messed up when returning home after watching The Red Hood. He was in his human form when heading back to his apartment. He didn’t worry about how dangerous Crime Alley was. Of course he was a bit paranoid sometimes but not really.

One minute he was walking the next he was cornered in the alley next to the apartment complex. Apparently that got the attention of The Red Hood as when Danny started pushing the muggers away and was getting ready to fight; he appeared behind the them and scared the rest off.

Danny kinda just looked at him before saying thanks and quickly heading up the fire escape to his apartment. He wasn’t supposed to interact with the dead that he was meant to watch but now he could feel Red Hood’s eyes on him as he went through his window.

Jason usually knew who was following him but for some reason he couldn’t figure it out this time. He felt like he was being followed, he knew that he was. He had oracle check the cameras in Crime Alley but still nothing.

It annoyed him that he couldn’t figure it out. There was no rumors about any out of towners. It wasn’t till one night when he noticed someone fighting against some muggers in the alleyway of next to the apartment complex he lived in. He was about to stop his patrol for the night so why not end with scaring off muggers.

When all was said and done, he watched the man thank him and leave. Jason watched a bit too long as he saw him go into his apartment. He couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity with that man. Red hood left to the top of the apartment building. Yes he had multiple safe houses but he liked living in crime alley, more or less to stay away from the Bat.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main #not finished #fanfic #dp fanfic #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #danny phantom #cross posted on ao3 #crack fic #not serious #hot mess fic #ghost king danny #au #dp x dc crossover #404 - Title Not Found

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1989butcher · 1 year

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Boots

daryl dixon x reader

he gave you a pair of oversized boots a long time ago, and you’ve kept them ever since.

set: alexandria, you got separated when the prison fell.

2.7k words

FLUFF!!!!!!!! i <3 fluff. this is my first fic pls be nice to me 🥹

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Y/N’s POV

I’ve been walking for months with nothing but a near empty backpack and boots that are far too big for my feet. The last time I slept with four walls was a long time ago at the prison. I haven’t even fully began to process what happened, I simply haven’t had the time.

When this whole thing started, I was visiting my brother in Atlanta. I didn’t know when my parents dropped me off at the airport in Michigan would be the last time I saw them. I lost my family, well everyone but Glenn, but after enough time I gained a new one.

The people I met in Atlanta, the ones that made in to the Greene farm, were some of the best people I had come across in my life. I never thought I would enjoy chilly nights eating rabbits, oddly enough I had one as a pet when growing up. Glenn never failed to remind me when I would be eating one, which led Daryl to tease me about it every time he brought one home. “This one look like yours?” He would always bring it to me first. I turned away quickly. “Stop!” I covered my eyes. I think a smile would curl from his lips. I would almost laugh out of anger. I knew every time he did this, he would come right to me to rub it in my face. “I wish I never told you about Thumper.” I said, basically talking into my shoulder. I turned to him on the log I was sitting on, still covering my eyes but peeking in between my fingers. “I ain’t ever gonna let you live this down.” I sighed, while he turned on his heel and walked away.

Glenn was sitting opposite of me, with Maggie of course. “Whatever happened to the little guy?” Glenn asked, his fingers intertwined with Maggie. Couldn’t even begin to believe my big brother found love at a time like this. I went back to building the fire, slower than before in hopes the archer would make a joke about it. “I dunno, after like five years I’m pretty sure he died, but mom said he ran away. Either way, he got a better fate than he would now.” I replied, staring into the dimming fire. I’m sure Maggie said something about rabbits on the farm, but that’s where the memory stops.

The farm being overrun was something inevitable, especially after we found out walkers were living in the barn. I’ll never forget standing there with Daryl, as he ran to Carol to stop her from going after Sophia. I don’t think he will ever forget that either. I know he blames himself, no matter how many times I said it wasn’t his fault. He would hold his head in his hands and I would rub his back, telling him ‘it’s ok’. He would shake his head and always reply no, or more like “Nah.” I just wanted to be there for him and take away his pain.

Speaking of pain, my feet were throbbing. I have been walking on this road for what feels like years. I don’t even know how much time has passed since the prison fell. I think living there was the happiest I had ever been. Our small family from the farm turned into a full on community. We farmed, had animals, kids went to a sort of school (if that’s what Carol wants to call it), and so much more. Runs were sort of fun, although Daryl never wanted me to go. One time, Glenn, Maggie, and I went on a run and promised to be home by sundown, as usual. I was hardcore third wheeling, but that was my brother and Maggie had become my sister. We were singing in the car, celebrating the canned foods we had found in an abandoned mini-van. Laughing, it almost felt normal. It was night when we returned, since we went a bit farther than we predicted. Rick, Tyreese, and of course, Daryl were waiting at the gate as we pulled up. They looked worried sick but I think the three of us were grinning ear to ear. When I stepped out of the car, unscathed, I saw the archer sigh in relief. “Don’t tell me you were worried Daryl, how sweet!” I teased him, handing him a crate of food. He huffed a quick “whatever” and I turned away and smiled. I think he saw me smile, I hoped he did. I never did tell him about the warm way he made me feel, quite literally warm. I was constantly cold, and he would always be bringing me back blankets or jackets. He even replaced my beaten converse with boots. Boots that were too big, but boots none the less. I also never told him they didn’t really fit, but I loved them too much to find a new pair.

The sun was glaring in my eyes. I laughed at the fact that pre-end of the world, I would have wanted sunglasses to avoid wrinkles from squinting. Even though nowadays, all everyone does is squint. I say everyone as if I have seen a single person since all those weeks ago. Feels like a lifetime has passed.

I decided to take a turn down a road with lots of tire tracks. Maybe I could actually find some sort of shed for the night in a few hours. Cook my very own rabbit. Daryl would be proud. At this very thought, I heard a rustle in the woods. I quickly grabbed my knife strapped to my hip. It indeed was a walker. It growled as it slowly made its way from the forest floor towards me. I walked up to it, shoved my knife into its grey skull, and kicked it back into the forest floor.

I brushed the hair out of my face after putting the knife back in a belt loop. “Where am I supposed to put it?” I asked, as Glenn handed me the knife I carry now. He walked away, passing other weapons out from a run he came back from. Those strong, warm arms came from behind me, with a soft grunt he took the knife from my hands and spun me around, wrapping his fingers through the loops on back of my jeans. His dark hair covering his eyes, he looked through the hair at me. Lifting the knife up for me to see, he slid it through a belt loop. “Got it?” He asked. I nodded in reply, my cheeks red with the fact his hands were still on my waist.

I couldn’t take these memories anymore. For all I knew, they were all dead. Or if some weren’t, they assumed I was. I’m sure of it. My family was gone, again. And I couldn’t help but blame myself.

I don’t want to replay that day in my head with what I could have done differently. That heartbreak would kill me. So I kept moving.

As I kept walking, I could swear I heard children laughing. A noise hard to come by these days, and even harder now after being alone. I surely wouldn’t recognize myself with the knotted hair, covered in dirt and blood, some of it was mine.

I picked up the pace, almost as if I was expecting children to come run and laugh by me. I looked around and saw down the road lots of cars lined up. People had to have done that. Survivors had to have done that. I think I was running at this point, I couldn’t tell. My feet have been numb since the last time I slept.

Around the corner from these cars, I saw a wall with a sign that read “ALEXANDRIA”. Holy shit. A town. With walls. I knew walking up to the gates was a bad idea, but at this point if they shot me, they shot me.

My brother was gone, with his wife who became my best friend. Our leader was gone. Same with his son and baby that I had grown extremely close to. The archer, too. And I wouldn’t admit it, but I love that archer.

I walked up the gates, my feet were stunned I had stopped moving. I quietly knocked, with a coarse “Hello?” I hadn’t talked in days, the last drink was from a river probably a day ago.

A man with a dark mullet and khaki shorts opened the gates ever so slightly. “Who are you?” He asked.

“My name is Y/N, is this your community?” I was basically begging. I was fighting tears from welling up in my eyes. A real person.

“I’m not at the liberty to discuss that with you.” He replied sternly. He looked around, as if someone was going to give him an answer. He held a large gun, clearly he didn’t know how to use it. I was frustrated, and I could take him down if need be, but I was going to be civil about this.

“What is it, Eugene?” someone asked him from behind the gate. I swear I’ve heard the voice before, but I thought it was pure exhaustion fueling my delusion/

“One moment, please hand over your weapons.” The man, assumingely named Eugene said. I handed him my knife and my pistol, that maybe had one bullet left in it. Just as quickly as he opened them, he closed the gates. I still had my pocket knife in my backpack. One of those tourists ones with your name on it. Daryl brought it back for me on a run once, and I’ve never used it. Just kept it, like a token.

“I know this knife.” The faceless voice gasped. Now, instead of just the solid wall, both parts of the gates opened and there she was.

Maggie. Maggie Rhee. Tears in her eyes as she held the knife at her waist, her wedding ring my brother gave her shining in the sun. “Y/N?” she said at an almost whisper. I went to reply, but no words came out. Those tears I had been fighting came out in full force as she crossed over to hug me. Her hand at the back of my head as we knelt to the ground to hold each other. Maggie was here, Glenn had to be. And if they were, who knows who else had made it.

I cried into her shoulder for a moment, until she grabbed my face to brush the hair out of my eyes. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” I smiled back at her, bringing her in for another hug. After a few more minutes of tears, we pulled away, stood up, and shut the gates behind us. “Wait here.” she said, running into a house.

I stood there, wiping tears with my shirt. “I’m Eugene.” the mullet man said. Staring awkwardly at me. “Hi.” I said back, taking a deep breath. He went to say something else before someone came out of the house with Maggie, her hands covering his eyes.

I slowly walked towards them. My heart dropped to my stomach and I swear the world stopped. Maggie used her other hand to say ‘Shhh’ to me. I could barely keep it together when she finally removed her hand from his eyes. It was Glenn.

Before he realized it was me I had already gone to hug him. Crying into his thin shirt and sinking to the street. “Oh my God.” he said in reply, coming back down with me, doing the exact same thing Maggie had done. He kissed my forehead and I felt his tears drop onto my head.

“I’m so sorry.” I cried to him. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve listened, I should’ve stayed with you.” He shook his head, sniffled and pulled away. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Y/N. I’m here. Your family is here.” He picked me up from the ground and Maggie came in to hug us again, going to kiss Glenn and wipe his tears. We all sort of exchanged ‘how on earth did you survive’ and ‘you look like shit’ before they took me walking up the street, careful not to tell me about anyone who had died, but who was here. Rick, the kids, Michonne, Carol, Sasha, some people named Tara, Rosita, Abraham, who had come with Eugene. I was in complete disbelief of an entire neighborhood that was safe.

None of them were outside, so seeing me was going to be a surprise, but they had skipped over a certain archer I was missing. While we came up to the porch that Glenn said was Rick’s, I found myself asking if Daryl was here. The couple exchanged looks. Fear took over as I assumed the worst, until Maggie took my hand and nodded. “He’s here, too. Been looking for you for weeks, actually.” My stomach was full of butterflies, even though it had been empty for weeks.

“He was looking for me?” I asked in disarray, the tears that had finally stopped were going to start all over again. My stomach dropped. He searched for Sophia everyday, all day. He never stopped and the heartbreak he has was unbearable. He was sure it was his fault she was gone, and he hadn’t looked hard enough. Glenn nodded. “Ever since,” he looked at Maggie, who looked away onto the street, his voice now lowered “ever since Beth died, he hasn’t been the same.” My heart had broken into a million little pieces. I squeezed Maggie’s hand, quickly saying I was sorry before she assured me she was going to be okay.

Another death that Daryl would blame himself for. I’m certain of that. Probably blamed himself for me running off too.

I followed the pair inside to where Rick was holding Judith on the couch. My first thought honestly was, holy shit a COUCH.

He stood up and smiled, quick to hug me with Judith propped on his hip. He kissed my cheek and brought me in close. I buried my face in his shirt, kissing Judith after. His shirt smelled of fresh laundry, a smell I hadn’t known for a long time. Rick was the most fearless man I had ever met, and I’d be dead without him. All of us would be.

“You’re here.” he broke the silence. I nodded, wiping my tears away. “Don’t know how, but I’m here.” I replied. He smiled again, looking up the stairs to Carl. He raced down them and tackled me into a hug.

“Y/N, I thought you were gone!” He exclaimed. I wanted to reply I thought I was gone too, but instead just laughed. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easy, kid.” playfully knocking his hat off his head. He laughed and flicked me back. “Daryl is not going to believe this.”

My eyes grew to the size of saucers. I was bursting at the seams. I wanted to see him more than I needed a shower at this point. I was looking out the window Rick was seated in front of when I said “Speaking of Daryl, where is he? Where’s everyone, I need to-“ The question didn’t matter anymore. There he was on the street, looking directly through the window. Almost through me. He took a few steps back, as if he was going to take off running. Like I was a ghost.

If anyone said anything to me, I couldn’t be sure. My legs carried me out the door and down the stairs, and into his strong arms. Arms I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The ones that held me late at night when I was cold, the ones who taught me how to shoot, even shot his crossbow once, the ones I cried into when we lost the farm, the ones I took naps on during long car rides. Home. I was home.

We didn’t say anything to each other. He had dropped his crossbow in the road where he was now holding me, face snuggled into my neck. He was crying. I reached up to rub the back of his head with my hand. “Been awhile, huh?” I whispered, sarcastically, desperately trying to break the silence. He pulled away, tears hidden under his overgrown hair. “Thought I lost ya” He put his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and smiled. “Never.” I said, placing my hands on his face. His response was the same, putting his hands on mine and giving me the gentlest kiss to ever touch my lips.

Didn’t think the entire community had to watch this go down, especially since that was our first kiss, but it makes for a fun story now. We both sniffled and looked into each others eyes, his blue ones glistening with tears. “Didn’t know I had to go missing for you to kiss me like that, Daryl.” Hearing myself say his name made my heart skip a beat.

He broke eye contact and looked towards the ground. “See ya kept those boots.” he remarked. I pulled his gaze back up to meet mine.

“I thought after long enough they could bring me home.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead fanfiction

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noah-shin · 11 months

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How would Rui feel when you instinctly try to protect him from a danger after being distanced from him so long. Does he think he won you over and how he acts afterwords? +

I will be glad if you talk about how all these months went between Rui and reader and how many months it took yn to accept and realize everything

Sure, I would love to. I actually focused more on what happened during that 1 year between yn and Rui. Not much on the protective side of yn as I feel she will not survive a fatal attack after saving Rui. I hope you will enjoy it. Requests are allowed

Here's the one shot

Wc: 799

It's been 1 year since you have been captivated by Rui. A lot of things have changed. In these months you have understood there's no way to ignore Rui when he's the only person you have close to you. You remained submissive remembering the last time you snapped at him and got your legs twisted in the wrong way. Moreover everything you need can be fulfilled by him and you need to just give him your love. He brings books and trinkets and other things from the village to decrease your boredom when he's not with you. He loves seeing you cook even though he doesn't eat any of that and likes you reading stories to him while he stares at your face. He is a simple demon who only finds joy in staring at you. You could just breathe and he will praise you for being the best sister. Rui will sometimes remind you of your dead family just to get a high out of you and hold you in his arm overprotectively when you're succumbed in your misery.

He stays the whole day cuddling with you and holding you since he can't go outside anyway. You used to shiver but still let him hold you in fear of getting hurt.

But nowadays it has become an everyday mutual thing. It's even more unsettling when he actually doesn't hold you when you should actually be happy with that. Your eyes lingers to see his figure when you wake up at night and find him eating a person in another room.

You often find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder resting while seeing the moon. You don't talk much considering saying anything about any other person will make him mad, besides you don't need to think about others anyway. You make flower crowns and matching clothes for him. You don't have much to do anyway. You both wear matching kimonos because it makes him feel more connected. There are days where you actually find yourself loving his warm hold around you and think whatever happened was for the good.

You were laying on Rui's chest on the rooftop of his house busking in the moonlight. Rui patted your head occasionally and said " with you oneesan I can remember my past life little by little. It's subtle but still there" you looked at him curiously " So what did you remember?"

" I looked very ill in my memories. It was like happiness was sucked out of my life. Everything looked colorless until you arrived.You bathed my whole world with colors" You exclaimed hearing his words" Really? You must have your present with your past "" It can happen. Besides you're the only one I think about these days anyway"

You hummed almost falling asleep when Rui sat up abruptly and you flinched " hey! What happened? "

He replied " Someone is here" before you can ask who it is, you can feel a dread overcoming your body and you hugged Rui tightly. Before you or Rui could even process anything, blood started dripping down your arm. You looked at your bloodied hand and let out a blood curdling scream in pain. Rui hugged your bloodied body in his arms as he saw a demon slayer standing meters away now cowering in fear seeing the look in Rui's eyes. In one motion Rui killed that slayer with his threads and looked at you " Nooo, oneesan stay with me. I can't live without you. " He cried out in anguish. As lights were fading from your eyes you caressed his face. Finding no way Rui accepted his fate

--------------------------------------------------

You were looking at the dead person under you from the tree branch. As you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned back." Owh Rui, our feast is ready. Shall we start? " You said as your feet dangled in the air. Your feet were so different, the way they were twisted when you were alive never changed. Your heels were at the front and fingers on the back. There was a big scar visible on your hand which spread through your body looking like an artwork. Your hair was completely different from that of Rui being red.

Rui nodded at your word holding you in his arms as he landed on the ground. You both dug your teeth on the flesh of those dead people. Rui hold your hand and said " Making you a demon was a good choice I guess"

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 1 year

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The team of My Beautiful Man has done it again and delivered another sublime season of Hira and Kiyo’s love story. It all comes down to the fact that even after 3 years Hira is still Hira and Kiyoi is still Kiyoi and the show, despite its short running time, is wonderful at showing that personalities are deeply ingrained and not something that changes overnight or over a course of a few months. They have both made baby steps over the years at overcoming their shortcomings, Kiyoi has become more daring, trying hard to curb his own shyness and the resulting arrogant and cold behaviour, while Hira has dared to come out of his shell a little bit more, even his stammer has reduced, proving that they are indeed good for each other despite their flaws and insecurities. However, Hira’s tendency of self-loathing and inferiority complex is something he’s had for 20+ years and is an inherent part of him, it’s not something that would just miraculously disappear with the power of love. And My Beautiful Man portrays this painstakingly slow process and journey to change in a very realistic and authentic way.

The beautiful thing is that Kiyoi doesn't even want Hira to change, he loves him the way he is which is really what the first episode was all about, that he sees past Hira’s awkwardness and sees how gorgeous Hira truly is, appreciates him and adores everything about him.

He just wants to be loved by him, only by him, he is fine being worshipped by everyone else, and even though that worship had been what made him attracted to Hira, for a long time now, he has wanted to be Hira’s equal, giving Hira the time and space to slowly gain the confidence while he was trying to make himself more emotionally available and became softer so Hira would feel more comfortable with him. He’s been hoping for it with every fibre of his being for years and witnessing all his hopes dashed literally shatters him.

The confrontation scene in episode three is really a direct parallel to the emotional argument in season 1, two scenes which set up the climax of each season. All those little disappointments Kiyoi has been bottling up over time come to a breaking point.

It hurts even more because he's had expectations, the hope when Hira mentions he hated calling him ‘his friend’ lits up his whole face, expecting to finally get to hear from Hira what he's always desired and craved for so long, a love confession where he would admit them being lovers, equals, only to be disappointed and feeling gut-wrenching pain as the result.

He swallows it at first despite the excruciating pain, like he must have done many times before, but Hira denying him to be part of his life, cutting him away from his parents, who Hira obviously loves in his own weird way judging from his story about the shrimp croquettes, which Kiyoi knows, it truly breaks him his heart, revealing that HE DOESN’T WANT TO MERELY BE HIRA’S LOVER, HE WANTS TO BE HIS FAMILY; something enduring and lasting, something eternal, wishing to gain what he had lost as a child and was robbed of when his mother found a new family and neglected him.

He wants to by tied to Hira for life because whether you like ir not, family ties are unbreakable connections. He’s being seeking it for most of his life but Hira’s words make him realise Hira has been denying him that very thing and there is a part of Hira’s life he can’t be a part of; he feels sheer horror and heartache when he finds him he is still on the pedestal, stuck on the very same place where Hira had placed him 5 years ago and which he hates so much. Not a lover, not a spouse, not family member, only an untouchable rock, but rocks don’t have a heart to break nor do they weep like a willow when it’s shattering.

And yet despite his words, in a beautifully symbolic gesture, Hira tries to touch his star and tries to wipe away his tears only for him to push him away now.

Finally, the director of My Beautiful Man is truly awesome at portraying all these emotionally-charged scenes and making them 100% authentic, it’s unreal how raw, intense and realistic everything feels, almost like a documentary where the audience is allowed a voyeuristic peek at a couple’s most intimate moments.

There is no distracting music to destroy the moment, which is where most of Thai BL dramas usually fail and ruin the scene, here, the director lets the script and the actors do the talking and the result is simply beautiful.

#my beautiful man #utsukushii kare #yagi yusei #hagiwara riku #jdrama

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littlemarianah · 13 days

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Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

@tetheredfeathers and I started a challenge to write a text between 500 - 1000 words with this prompt.

Click >here< to see her version of this.

Just something fun to pass the time... I ended up writing my new non-reaped AU project, where Katniss and Peeta never go to the games.

I'm tagging these three incredible and talented writers to continue our challenge.

@mollywog @nightlocked-in @rainymyx

title:

The streak of luck.

A tide of luck had swept over me the last few weeks. Spring is always the best time of year to find things in the woods, but this year I outdid myself. I found two bee hives full of honey. It was very painful and I spent days recovering from the bee stings, but I managed to bring two bags full of honeycombs to sell on the rob. Honey is a rare item in district twelve, so it made me a lot of money.

I think that since spring began, there hasn't been a day that goes by that I don't come home with something to sell with. From juicy wild berries to Turkeys, swallows and wild dogs. I've been finding things more valuable lately.

This month, we had the luxury of spending more stuff than just on food. I was able to buy new boots for Prim, cold coat for me and a supply of oils for my mother to make ointments and resell.

And in the end there was still money left. So I bought a sewing thread and a needle. I grabbed my mother's old white dress from the back of the closet. She and Prim did all the repairs for me. Then I took my dress to Hazelle and paid her a good amount to wash it. She asked me for bleach, to remove the yellow stains from age and mold. Then she asked me for violet fabric paint. It was difficult to find something like that on the black market, it ended costing me a whole rabbit.

I was afraid it would turn my dress purple, but she said that the dye mixed in hot water removes all the yellow stains and makes the dress white like never before.

She was right. It was so beautiful it looked like I had bought it brand new.

As I get older and become more and more like my mother, her dress looks more and more like it was made out for me. The straight cut at the collar makes my long neck - which Peeta praises so much - stand out. The long sleeves hide my thin arms. The tight waist makes it my hips look more accentuated than they actually are. It's a simple dress, it looks like a nightgown. However, its fabric is so elegant that I look like a bride from the big city.

My mom puts my hair in a low bun and Prim makes a lavender flower crown to match spring.

The shoes I will wear are a problem. I only have my beat-up hunting boots and old school shoes. None suit the occasion. My mother's shoes are beautiful, but they are so tight on me. I refuse to spend the whole afternoon limping.

There is a third option, which I don't like very much. There are the shoes I used to wear at the reaping. The last time I wore them I was 19 years old, two years ago. This blue heels are so old they look gray.

I wish I had thrown them away, but you can never waste resources like that. Shoes are expensive. Even if they don't bring back good memories, they are still valuable. My mother cleans them and rubs them with lard to make them shiny. I feel weird, but it's my best option at the moment.

So here I am, dressed like a spring bride. And there he is, dressed like a merchant groom. Waiting for me at the door of the Justice Building.

He has combed his hair back and applied gel to keep the curls in place. A perfectly ironed white shirt, black pants with a silver buckle belt and a brown suit over everything, which make his shoulders pointy. He's perfect. On his feet are also his reaping shoes.

“You look so beautiful." he says.

“You too." I reply.

Then we link our arms and wait until they call us. I feel the heat radiating from Peeta. He doesn't usually get nervous, but today his forehead shines with sweat and he fixes his collar compulsively. So far I've counted five times in the last two minutes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Oh, my brother lent me this shirt. It's itchy" He groans, awkwarly. I smile at him and he seems to relax.

There are several couples around us, waiting too. Everyone wants to get married in the spring.

Many young women in white. Some with lacy and chic dresses, others with old and yellowed, but all the same holding the hands of their lovers. The young men, one exhausted by work, one covered in coal dust, and another with elegant blue suits and shiny shoes.

We are all there, waiting to get to our turn.

When the door finally opens the old man calls out "Thompson" in a deep voice.

Then a couple enters, the girl with a veil and a garland and the boy with a leather hat. The two are shaking with so much excitement, they are completely in love. Still too young to free themselves from the burden of the Hunger Games. It's not good luck marry before you're 19. So I sigh, and wish them good luck on next summer.

After a few minutes, the couple leaves smiling and receives a round of applause from their family members who are waiting for them outside.

Then the man screams again "Greenwood".

An older, handsome boy, next to him is a blonde girl in a flashy dress. They are accompanied by their parents, elegant merchants. I start stomping my feet anxiously. I want to end the waiting once and for all. After a couple long minutes, they finally leave the building and when I least expect it the man is shouting for "Mellark". I head towards him as if he were calling my own name.

My witness is my mother, I wanted it to be Prim, but she is still a minor. Peeta's witness is his middle brother. He seems a little uncomfortable being there, but he pats Peeta on the back to encourage him.

“Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark, is it of their own free will that you both meet here today to be united in matrimony?” says the old man.

“Yes.” Peeta said vigorous.

“Yes.” I said in sequence, quieter revealing my nervousness.

Peeta takes my hand gently and squeezes it with his sweaty palm.

I thought I was calm until this moment, now I'm sure I'm terrified. While that old man talks boring things about marriage and laws and the importance of family I get lost in Peeta's flush face. His lips are tight and raised in a restrained smile. I feel my heart skip a beat.

When the man stops talking we each receive a pen. Peeta leans over the thick book first, writing “Peeta Mellark” in cursive. Then it's my turn, my hands shake and I sigh, before finally putting the ink on the paper.

I start with the "K" of my name, with a less sophisticated calligraphy than Peeta's. Now my tremor is visible to everyone around me. Peeta's eyes are the heaviest on me, they make me blush.

“How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?” I sigh. He giggles and looks away as I write "Mellark." My new last name.

#a little normality in their lives #just young people in love #They end up together in every universe #the hunger games #thg #writing prompt #prompt challenge #katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #Everlark #non reaped #fanfic #I love them #thanks for reading

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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 month

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last child - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: more domestic fluff with leon, a touch of angst over leon's scars, passing mentions of drinking, leon being a fucking cheeseball, leon's obscenely handsome back. Words: ~3k Notes: hiiiiii. thank you all so much for you kind comments on the first drabble in this lil collection, i have never felt so inspired!! thus, here's more romantic bullshit with the guy. i'm thinking these will all exist within the same vague universe with detective!reader and husband!leon, especially because you guys gave me some very interesting ideas for him. this drabble in particular was inspired by emrurow, who suggested: "leon def has a whole package of scars from his missions and just imagine this scene where the reader is like gently caressing them and kissing them and its just so fluffly and sweet and vulnerable at the same time.........aghhhh." AGREED. now combine that with my strange urge to hose this bitch down with sunscreen. i hope you like the direction i took for this! enjoy <3

“Vacation” is a funny word in the Kennedy world.

When your work-buddies at the precinct bring up their vacations, it’s always a trip with the kids that’s months in the making, or summer getaways with the missus they’ve requested time off for. Always in the States and always planned ahead. The big joke in the bullpen is that the officer with the most cases closed this year will win a dazzling trip to Greece—but Leon has been to Greece, and he claims it’s pretty boring.

You think you’d find Greece pretty boring, too, if you spent the whole time there crawling around in the mud and hiding under enemy tanks.

So, no Greece for you. Vacations in the Kennedy world look more like this: Leon is cleared to go home, he somehow gets hold of your ever-shifting work schedule, becomes possessed with the urge to throw himself at the closest idea of “relaxing,” and springs it on you as a very romantic surprise. No elaborate itineraries. No plan. Just whatever consensus the two of you come to in the car, partners-in-crime escaping into the wind.

“So… Vegas?” You joke, slipping your key into the ignition of Leon’s precious Lamborghini Miura. So precious to him, in fact, that he avoids driving it at every opportunity.

The second he sags down into the passenger’s seat, your husband spams the recline button until he’s near-horizontal. The hand not cradling an ice pack over his nasty black eye curls loose around your elbow.

He scoffs, winking open his good eye at you. “With my luck?”

“Ooh, right. Bad idea then.”

Yeah. His track record with cars alone was impressive—he’d busted open two in the first year you’d been married, and you’ve been chauffeuring him ever since. Somehow, you don’t think Leon and casinos would mix.

You can’t resist the urge to pet his poor knuckles. These, too, were banged up. After a beat of the two of you filing through all of your available escape plans, you break the pensive bubble in the car by sweetly kissing his bruise-mottled hand. “Mwah. Where do you want to be right now, baby? Let me take you there.”

Leon’s head had lolled to face yours, and for the millionth time since Racoon you’re struck by how bone-tired he always seems. He rasps with a tasteful touch of patheticness, “I want a cold beer and I wanna be outside. Wanna see you in a swimsuit, too.”

As straight-forward as a chainsaw, this guy. Hm. Your brows flick up at the picture he paints for you, and you lean right up to his face so Leon can see how unimpressed you are. “Do you want a sandwich, too, Mr. Kennedy? Maybe some—”

You go quiet even before Leon lays a kiss on you. It’s his hand that does it, long-fingered and twisted with damage, guiding you closer with enough painful tenderness to make a mote of sand feel special. Uhm. What had you been saying? You’d been talking, but… The touch wasn’t a little tap for you to tilt your head up, no—it’s just on the right side of needy, the heavy pads of his fingertips dimpling your jaw so he can pull you down to kiss him. Happiness tastes like spearmint gum.

You part with a soft wet sound. Leon licks his lip and smiles, “No. Just wanna be with you.”

Well, the best place to be with him that involved cold beer, the grand outdoors, and one of your swimsuits was the lakehouse he owned up in Philly. The fact that he agreed to go there was truly a testament to how desperate he was to relax. The lakehouse wasn’t like his Lamborghini, your Prada sandals, or the boat bobbing in the marina back in DC—it was a family heirloom. One last relic of the old Kennedy money he never talked about. The most Leon had ever said about his inheritance was that it was “dirty,” and you don’t think he meant in the messy way.

Your husband’s secretive past aside, the memories you’d made here together were sun-warm and golden. If you were looking to make some extra money on the side, you think you’d offer up the place to the film crew of some wholesome coming-of-age movie. It was stupidly gorgeous. On a sunny afternoon like this one, the water was one horizon-wide mirror, making the whole day twice as sky-blue and shimmering. A pine-y breeze cooled the drying water on your back and fluttered through the heavy, low-slung trees reaching for passing paddle-boats. Hanging over the whole thing was Leon’s personal slice of the Appalachian mountains. He never said much about the house itself, but his childhood hiking the trails was free game.

Leon has a knack for escaping. He’s not nearly as good at vacationing. Lucky for him, you wrote the goddamn manual.

Your husband lays his chin on his folded arms and peers at you over his shoulder. “Like this?”

From where you’re standing rooted to the weathered wood of your jetty, Leon is a fucking vision. He lays out in the sun on his belly, lazy tomcat limbs loose and pliant on the dock. All you can make out of his face is the white, knife-straight scar on his chin, hidden by a feathery curtain of angel blonde hair. Even the tacky palm tree beach towel he’s laying on suits him.

…It takes you a second to answer, cause, yeah. Yes. That’s… wow. Holy shit.

“...Dear?”

How can one word gush with so much smugness? Hoo, boy. He was a baby, honey, sweetheart guy. Not dear. For that, you slip off one of your foam flip-flops to smack him or something—but, of course, Leon swats it aside without looking.

The innocent little shoe almost goes spiraling into the water lapping at the dock, but bumps into your cooler instead. A fishing boat just a few leagues out has arena rock radio on full blast. One of Leon’s hands taps out the drums for Hot for Teacher.

“Shut up.” You puff a strand of hair out of your face. “Is that really how you’re gonna talk to the person single-handedly saving you from sun-damage?”

“Haven’t saved me yet,” he gives a pointed wiggle of his poor, sunscreen-less shoulders.

As rebellious as you’re feeling, you do as told. He’s impossible to resist like this. Well, he’s upsettingly dreamy in any situation, but he’s at his worst when he’s all lazy and languid for you after too long apart.

“Let’s fix that,” you say, and uncap your tube of SPF 50.

Leon’s face drops back into his folded arms. You pad around his body on the towel, careful not to step on him as you take your usual seat on the small of his back. It’s then that the gravity of your task hits you. Why the fuck are his elbows attractive?

Bigger question: how are you going to survive the next fifteen minutes? It had been you in the skincare aisle this morning. Hell, your hand had gone for the lotion sunscreen over the spray sunscreen for a reason. In that moment, you knew how your decision would butterfly into the future, and that no matter what you would always end up here, staring down the gorgeous swath of Leon’s bare back. Un-sunscreened. Needing you to touch him. Ugh.

“My eyes are up here,” Leon remarks at your silence.

Your other flip-flop dings off his shoulder with a satisfying bounce.

“...I let that happen.”

You don’t doubt that he did, but it feels good to tease him.

Burdened by the consequences of your actions, you slump forwards on top of him. He’s dinged up even back here, and there are strange, yellowing bruises patching around his shoulder-blades that you stoop to kiss. You understand why he only has the energy to lay flat on a towel like a fish. It looks painful, and not for the first time in your life you’re overwhelmed by the need to take care of him.

…He has single-handedly set feminism back at least thirty years.

Well. Dammit. You glare down at your husband’s stupid, beautiful back muscles. “I do this because I love you very much. Not because I feel obligated to as your wife, or cause’ of any societal expectations. Just because of you.”

Leon, still running on a dead battery, gives you a confident salute. You imagine eagles cawing overhead. “Yes, ma’am.”

Another loss for feminism: that gets a big, giddy laugh out of you. Maybe you just missed him, but his sleepy jokes are hitting the mark even more than usual. You’re still peeling with giggles as you drop a big dollop of sunscreen into your hand, and they don’t die down until you’ve spread it between your palms and begun to spread it out over his shoulders.

The tips of his ears have gone red. He warmly mutters, “Love that sound.”

Since it’s not every day that you get to indulge in your husband’s back, you take your time. He lets out a long breath when the cold cream meets his sun-warm skin, and in that one sound you hear weeks of pent-up tension already melting away. Leon has always seemed unstoppable to you. Even in his wiry rookie days, when you never would’ve called him wiry at all, he felt like he could plow through anything on a wave of willpower and spite. Now, that relentlessness has become physical. He’s plump with muscle all over. His back especially, so much of his weight as taut and ready-to-go as a bull on the charge.

Or, in less words: he’s built like a brick shithouse.

But he is still, at his core, the not-wiry-yet-wiry rookie you loved. When you accidentally press into a new bruise, he makes a soft wincing sound through his teeth.

“Sorry, baby,” you utter.

From then on, your touches go feather-light. You fan your palms down his slim waist and make sure his freckly shoulders get good coverage. For a while, the thoughts in your mind go somewhere far away and shapeless, focussed only on the task at hand. But the sunscreen makes his skin so shiny that all the little details catch more highlights than usual, and you realize, with a rising sense of discomfort, that all the things you aren’t allowed to know about him are laid out in front of you. There are loads of scars on your husband’s back that you don’t even recognise anymore.

The old ones are the ones you know. Most of them are nothing more than thin, pale discolorations now, just distinct enough to make out from memory. In a fucked up way, it’s fascinating: there is a sad old scar on the back of your hand from Raccoon, and when it passes over a similar jagged cut on Leon’s ribs, the two have aged together. But while you’ve gained only a few odd scrapes or dings being a detective in DC, Leon’s body is a whole new story.

They are not the neat, decorational scars an artist might accessorize a figure with. It’s all ugly, in inconvenient places that layer over one another, quick swipes, deep gouges, shallow bullet wounds, shredded lacerations, and more you don’t even have words for. Your heart plummets into your gut. You’ve seen these scars on him when they were still fresh bandages, but it only dawns on you now, stepping back to look at the full picture, just how many he has.

You swallow hard. “I’m so glad you’re home. Did I tell you that?”

Leon hums a yes, but it’s a dragged out, suspicious sound. He’s quick to sus you out. Nobody in the world can read you better.

You’re shooed off his back with a hand, and when he lumbers off his belly to sit up and face you, the sliver of black-eye you catch underneath his ice pack cuts you deep. He hasn’t opened his free arm for a whole second before you’re darting underneath it, his body tacky with sunscreen where it melds with yours. Your finger swirls around the oldest bullet-scar on his arm.

Leon takes a slow pull from his beer, squishing your face a little where it’s tucked against his shoulder. The bottle taps against the dock. Tink. Always, always, he has to joke with you first. “You’re making your worried face. Stop thinking.”

Your voice is muffled by his shoulder. “You can’t even see my worried face.”

“Then you’re making your worried silence.” Disappointed, he asks, “Where’d all your giggles go?”

The reply that your mind loads up for him is an unfiltered, pained, I hate that you’ve been in so much pain. But telling him that would only be stating the obvious, and in the grand scheme of his mission and his self-bound duty to protecting other people, (never himself, never ever himself), it feels like a stupid thing to say.

You’re not sure what to say. Instead, you drag your finger down a raised pink scar on the back of his arm, laid neatly with connective tissue like rows of embroidery. “...What’s this from?”

Leon has to check to know which one you’re talking about. Squinting at his arm, he plucks through his memory before guessing, “Pulled a girl out of a fire.”

That is exactly what you figured he’d say. Sure, he’ll chatter your ear off about Aerosmith and Italian cooking to no end, but the second you even blink in the direction of his work, the chatter dries up. All that’s missing is the smart-mouthed segue—

Leon pulls a smug face. “She’s a virologist now.”

“Ashley isn’t graduating until next year,” you roll your eyes.

That earns you a one-arm shrug. He’s still glimmering with pride. “She’ll be a virologist in a year, then.”

It’s never what gave him the scar that he remembers—it’s why he got it, what cause he took it for, that he never forgets.

The arm wrapped slung around your waist goes for his beer again, and this time Leon squishes you extra while he takes his sip. When that doesn’t succeed in sparking another laugh from you, he drops all pretense and resorts to tickling you, pinching your side and keeping you fished against him when you shriek and squirm away.

“Leon!”

“What!” He groans. “I’m trying to have a little R&R and you’re brooding. Enough.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you scoff—and then scream in outrage, because Leon decides he’s had enough of you and attempts to push you off the dock.

The only reason you don’t go sploshing into the drink is because you get a good hold on him first, and if you go down, then so would he. Between all that playful wrestling and shouting, Leon tugs you into an insistent kiss. And because this is him, the center of all good things in your world, you come out of it warm-faced and giggling again, your cheeks aching with a bright grin. He never fails to make you laugh.

You slump back on the beach towel, still twitching with little laughs. Just to win some of your dignity back, you reach past him and steal a long sip from his beer, shaking your head at him the whole time. It washes down your throat bubbly and wonderfully cold. “So mean.”

“C’mere,” Leon pats the space next to him. And knowing precisely what he’s doing, he hits you with one of the closed-mouth smiles you never see and assuages all of your worries with one, “My sweet girl.”

Hook, line, and sinker. You join him on the end of the dock, (weary of any mischievous hands that might shove you in), feet dangling over the edge and dipping into the pleasant, swaying waters. The breeze on your wet skin is almost too chilly, so Leon’s sun-warm body spooning up behind yours is the ultimate balm. You bask in your personal space heater for as long as he’ll let you, and he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder as you squeeze him close.

There’s a long, scraggly white line snaking up his wrist. You outline it with a finger. This is one of the ones you were there for, back in Raccoon—Leon took a bad hit for you, pushing you ahead of him so you could get to safety first. You’re curious to see what he’ll say.

You tap the scar. “What about this one?”

Leon doesn’t have to look to know which one you’re talking about, this time. His nose nudges behind your ear, and your body thumbs head to toe with the rumble of his voice, a single harp’s chord plucked by an expert player. “Keeping my world safe.”

Oh my god.

A huge, impish grin blooms on your face. “...You are such a fucking cheeseball.”

Leon pushes you clean off his lap and straight into the lake.

#uncouthre #leon kennedy #leon kennedy drabble #leon #leon kennedy/reader #leon s kennedy

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citrusses · 6 months

Text

January: 2023 Wrapped 🎁🍊

*some* of my favorite 2023 fics, by month they were published (or started to publish, or finished publishing, it's arbitrary bc i make the rules), plus some thoughts on what made these fics so special.

Chicken Shop Date by @sorrybutblog (T, 2K)

Draco and Harry sit down for an interview. Or is it a date?

This is such a fun premise and the Harry/Draco banter just sizzles. The atmosphere is so rich! 2K words of perfection that pack an outsized punch.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134K)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

A masterpiece that deconstructs every relationship in the HP universe and then rebuilds it, that does mind-boggling things with narrative structure, that stressed me out so badly I felt physically ill, that was so moving it left me bursting into tears for days after I read it, that had the funniest single line I've read in a fic maybe ever. So far reading this is the only time I've ever checked the tags on a fic for "happy ending" because I was so emotionally overwhelmed by it that I needed to know it would be ok in the end. I can't overstate how much I love this one.

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed (E, 8K)

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

A gorgeous, painful story that explores a kind of Harry/Draco dynamic that's not seen as often in fics (a SAD one), but is done exceptionally well here. It hurts so good!

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58K)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

@the-sinking-ship regularly writes: my favorite kind of Draco, my favorite kind of romance/getting together AND my favorite kind of smut. This fic is all of those things.

Polar Night/Midnight Sun by toomuchplor (E, 54K)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

The hottest fic in the coldest setting, this one made me absolutely FERAL. The most evocative scenery, incredible characterization, and the perfect pacing building to an explosively sexy and tender relationship. Also I would read like, 100K more words on just the mittens and jumpers and scarves of this fic, which are not items of clothing I have cared much about in the past. It's just that every detail, down to the smallest, is incredible!

When It Returns by @academicdisasterfic (M, 8K)

‘You’re late, layabout,’ Malfoy drawled, pushing the whiskey over to him. ‘I’ll have you know that I am very busy maintaining a whole house and garden by myself now.’ ‘Oooh, the dead husband card. Before any alcohol. Is that a record?’ Harry's husband is dead, and Malfoy is the only one who gets it. Or, the one where they drink at a straight man pub, renovate a house, and learn how to find joy again.

January was a good month for feeling bad. It's another angsty one! This one is full of beautiful healing in the face of a loss that feels very real, Draco annoying Harry out of his grief spiral (but in a loving way?) and Harry being on the right side of almost too stubborn for it to work. I have read and reread this many times already!

#citrus recs #2023 recs #drarry fic recs #I’m sure I’m going to miss TONS #so I’m sorry in advance #there are too many great fics in this fandom what a fantastic problem to have

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year

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heyy

can you do a angst with fluffy ending with eddie x reader on reader birthday (but not that he forgot pls 🙏🏻) you can decide the rest

thank you so much!! 💖💖

gosh i am sooooo sorry for only getting this out to you now! it's been sitting in my drafts, half-finished for far too long! again, super sorry for the delay - and i hope you enjoy 🤍

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.3k content warnings: talk of breakups / heartbreak (eddie & reader are exes), adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, - very much unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

Birthdays weren’t really your thing.

Celebrating getting older stopped being fun when the gifts turned from colourful toys to cards with generic wishes, and when parties went from having bright bouncy castles to drinking cheap wine alone in a messy apartment at the end of an even messier night. From pure, unfiltered joy, to misery and feeling like your life was slipping through your fingers, fast.

There were a few expectations over the last few years — four lucky birthdays to be exact. And these happy memories came into existence thanks to a certain curly-haired, brown-eyed boy.

Eddie first asked you out a few days before your nineteenth birthday and even though the two of you never really talked prior, there was no denying he was really fucking pretty and you had a big fat silent crush on him for quite some time before that faithful afternoon.

He invited you out for burgers, and in the midst of natural conversation, when you let slip that it was your birthday, Eddie also got you ice-cream, asking the waiter to place a single candle in the colourful sundae.

Till this day, it was the most genuine thing anyone has ever done for you. The most romantic too.

And every birthday that followed, every birthday you spent together with the metalhead was beyond special. He made them special.

From balloons and love notes, to heartfelt gifts, various activities during the day and dinners at his trailer or out in town. He even rallied your friends and threw you parties that no longer ended with loneliness. No year was the same. Eddie made them unique and memorable — which you adored him for wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, the genuine love you shared was not enough and the relationship came to an unforeseen end.

Eddie had big plans of one day becoming a rockstar, practicing guitar in his free time till his fingers bled, and you were studying day and night, working towards your dream degree. Your lives were heading in completely different directions and there came a point where you only saw each other once every fortnight, while your already irregular phone calls were often cut short.

That was three months ago. A breakup as natural as breathing, yet equally as earth shattering.

Even though it was a mutual decision, the pain was ever present and you cried yourself to sleep for weeks after. Eddie took a piece of you when he left and your whole body was in mourning. It didn’t help that everything in what remained of your life reminded you of him. Physical items like the printed t-shirts in your drawer or the mug he branded as his and you never let anyone else use. A Dio song you’d hear randomly or the diner he took you to on your first date. Then there was the emotional side, the soft glimmer in his eyes you remembered when you closed yours and the sound of his laughter you wished you’d hear again.

Things eventually got easier ‘cause it’s not like you saw Eddie often when you were together. Plus studying for an ungodly amount of hours kept you busy, distracted. And after giving yourself an appropriate time to feel everything, there was honestly no more time for heartbreak.

That is until your birthday rolled around.

When you opened your eyes late morning, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole — which in Hawkins was more than likely to happen. The last four birthdays were nothing short of perfect and now…

The nausea followed shortly after.

Your plan was to stay in bed all day, and it was going quite well since at six o’clock that evening you were glued to the same spot, until Robin barged into your room, Steve close on her heels, with a glass of water and a poorly decorated cake. Their singing gave you a headache, but you were still grateful for their attempt to make this day end on a better note.

“Now, go get your ass dressed,” Robin orders, glancing at Steve for his rehearsed words of encouragement.

He’s wide-eyed at first, nose buried in icing, but quickly nods at Robin’s words and looks in your direction.

“Y-yes, yes! We have an evening of fun planned!” Steve exclaims after swallowing a mouth full of vanilla cake.

Your roommates, however sweet they were trying to be, failed to realise the one place you really didn’t want to spend your birthday was The Hideout, and that’s exactly where they brought you.

The Hideout, presenting its usual lurking charm from the moment you stepped inside, was the one place in Hawkins you knew guaranteed an awkward bump-in with Eddie. Or maybe a needed interaction? Seeing him in his element could possibly bring some sort of closure after three months of no contact… No. No. Seeing him would only bring back the pain you tried real hard to bury.

A stench of old man sweat mixed with spilled booze hits your senses while you hurry closely behind Robin and Steve. In the dim light, your eyes are focused on the floor below, partially because you’re trying not to slip or trip over your own two feet, but mainly ‘cause you’re fearful of catching a glimpse of a certain head of wild brown locks. You only look up when the three of you approach a table closer to the back, away from most of the noise, and are greeted with hugs from Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle.

Settling yourself on one of the chairs, you exchange pleasantries with the rest of your friends while Steve orders a round of shots for the group. They all raise a toast to your health, their cheers attracting some attention in the process, but you don’t think anything of it, starting to instead feel glad you agreed to this.

“Birthday girl isn’t allowed to pay for her own drinks, got it?” Robin addresses the group and they all nod in unison. You wanna protest, but she swats at you from across the table before the words escape your lips. Her eyes saying that you need this, your eyes saying that you’re grateful she’s your friend. I know, Robin mouths as Jonathan takes everyone’s drink order.

Every shot you take, you chase with a rum and coke. The liquid burns down your throat. Third, fourth, fifth round down. You’re feeling buzzed, happy. Most importantly, no longer thinking of the boy that would normally also be hanging out with this group — blissfully unaware that he was actually watching your every move from the other side of the bar.

Eddie hadn’t initially planned on going out tonight. After a long day of working at the garage, then band practice right after, he really just wanted to smoke and fall asleep. As he got out of the shower however, instead of jumping into bed, he reached for a clean t-shirt. He couldn’t really explain why. It was stupid to think something inside of him was urging him to come to The Hideout tonight. He was wrecked beyond belief, yet his feet carried him here.

Then he heard it. Your name, followed by a mini-eruption of woohoos.

Head snapping in the direction of the sound, Eddie’s gaze found the source of the noise and then scanned the small group until he reached your relaxed frame. Christ, he thought, palms getting clammy. To say you looked gorgeous would be a vast understatement. And to say he didn’t realise just how much he missed you until this very moment would be nothing short of the truth.

Sure, after the breakup, Eddie found it hard to get through the day-to-day. Constantly distracted, thinking about you and second guessing the decision you both made. But then he reminded himself this was for the best, convinced himself that people can have more than one great love in their life, and things got easier.

There were days he hoped he’d accidentally run into you. At the store, out for coffee, or just wandering the streets of Hawkins. No such luck. When he started working at the shop to save some extra cash, he thought maybe you’d come in with your clunk of shit car since he was always telling you to get it looked at, but again, it never happened.

Three months passed like nothing.

Eddie would’ve never thought that today, your fucking birthday of all days, would be when he saw you next.

Cold beer in hand, he thought about walking up to the table you sat at with your mutual friends. And he was about to, but then you laughed at something Argyle said and the honey-like sound froze him in place. Clearly, you were having a good time. Eddie didn’t want to ruin that, so he opted for watching you like some fucking creep.

Four beers later, he’s still in the same spot.

Nancy takes over the jukebox duties. Billy Idol’s White Wedding starts to play as she pulls you to your feet, an excited squeal escaping her lips when you don’t protest. Swaying your hips to the music, you feel elated. Even more so when Robin joins in, singing along as Nancy twirls around the two of you. The boys clap, grinning like idiots, and you know you’re going to remember this moment forever, or at least until you unintentionally go over your drink limit and black out.

A smile tugs at the corners of Eddie’s lips as he continues to shamelessly stare at you. Carefree, is the word he’d use now to describe you and in all honesty, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while. Then his smile falters before it really fully appears ‘cause he finds himself wishing he was the reason for your current mood. Was ending things a mistake?

Mid-song, you spin and as you do, your eyes skim the bar, passing a set of curly hair. The air hitches in your throat as you double back. Just to make sure your drunken gaze wasn’t deceiving you, you tell yourself, but the reality is much different. Please be him, please be him, please be him…

When your eyes do lock with his, your tummy burns.

The copious amount of alcohol trifling through your veins right now gives you that extra push you need to start a short strut towards your ex-boyfriend. Someone’s arm is on you, attempting to pull you back slightly, but you don’t pay attention to it. Then you hear Steve say, “let her go, she needs this.”, and you’re free to continue your journey.

In a trance, gaze glued to Eddie’s chocolate one, you push through the people until you’re leaning against the bar he was sitting at, observing as his features turn from awe into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Eddie greets nonchalantly, as if no time has passed, as if nothing has changed between the two of you.

So you follow in his footsteps, carefully hoisting yourself up on the stool next to his, bare knee brushing against his denim-clad one.

“Wanna order me a drink?”

Eddie smirks. “Straight to the point, as always.”

“Well, since it is my birthday, Robin said I’m not allowed to pay for my own poison,” you tell him, shrugging lightly, “So if you have a problem with that, you gotta take it up with her.”

He huffs out a laugh.

“I’d rather not go against Buckley.” And with that he orders a shot of tequila each.

When the small glasses are in front of you, accompanied by a lime wedge, he takes your hand without asking, then licks between your thumb and index finger, doe-eyes never leaving yours.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sudden contact and you try to play it cool, but in reality your heart is racing. Though Eddie doesn’t give you time to think about what he’s done with no warning, pouring salt in the spot he’s just salivated. He then hastily repeats the action on his own hand and pushes a shot glass in your direction.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The toast is short and sweet. He raises the glass in front of his face as the words escape his lips, licks the salt off his own hand (which you’re a little disappointed in, unsurprisingly already missing the sensation that was his gentle touch), and downs the liquid in one go.

You quickly follow suit, not wanting to seem like he got you all flustered. But as the two of you sit and stare at one another while sucking on the lime wedges for a little longer than normal, you realise he’s just as rattled as you are — good.

“I hate tequila,” Eddie announces, discarding the wedge.

“I don’t mind it,” you say, wiping the corners of your mouth.

His gaze drops slightly, to where your finger presses against your puffy lips, and he bites down on his own rather shamelessly. There is a brief moment of silence in which Eddie thinks back to seconds before, when his tongue caressed your soft skin. He hates himself a little ‘cause he doesn’t wanna mess with your head, but fuck did that feel good. He’d like to do it again, if not more. Is that crazy?

And while you continue to look into his eyes, the butterflies in your stomach are going wild since you know exactly what he’s thinking. The only problem is you don’t know how to tell him because there’s so much else to be said first. Three months of catching up, to be precise, but did exes even do that?

“How about we get out of here?” Eddie offers, voice nothing short of a murmur.

You nod. Of course you nod. You’d go to the end of the world if he’d ask.

Before you know it, Eddie’s hand is on the small of your back, leading you through The Hideout crowd and out the front door. You don’t say goodbye to your friends, you can apologise tomorrow for leaving without a word. Instead, you inhale the fresh air, a wobble in your step as you turn to once again look at your ex-boyfriend.

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as close as he possibly can. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles. A genuine smile.

“There’s this diner not far from here,” he answers simply and your heart swells. Then once again, tenfold, as he places a kiss to your crown before whispering in your ear, “Back to where it all started, pretty girl.”.

as always, thank you for reading! pls don't hesitate to reblog & tell me what you think - ily!

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#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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ughtoomanyfandoms · 6 months

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Preacher's Daughter (The Last of Us - Joel Miller): Thoroughfare

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER Thoroughfare

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Series Warnings: unprotected sex, religious trauma, gore, violence, swearing, explicit content, sexual violence.

Word Count: 8.9k

Read on AO3 and Wattpad

Tommy was gone. Tess was gone. Bill and Frank were gone. Lianne was gone.

Lianne was gone.

Joel is alone. Alone with a fourteen year old girl, tasked with trekking her across the country for the “fucking Fireflies.” The one thing he had hated about his brother. The one thing he prayed Lianne wouldn’t fall in with. And it had sucked him right into it.

Joel and Ellie had spent the night nestled in the woods a few miles from Bill and Frank’s house. Joel sipped on the coffee that was promised by Lianne.

How long had it been since Lianne was at Bill and Frank’s before Joel found them? Did she know already? Had she stayed with them until the end? How close behind her were Joel and Ellie?

Ellie had stuck her nose into the percolator to take a strong whiff, turning pale in a recoil at the smell. She let out a wretched noise, contorting her face in disgust as she quickly closed the lid to the coffee percolator, pulling Joel’s attention back to her.

He twists to look over his shoulder, brows shooting up as he examines her scrunched face.

“You don’t like coffee?” Joel asks the young girl, voice gravely in a gentle surprise.

“Is this that shit they used to sell at Starbucks in the QZs?” She had asked him, face still scrunched in a pained grimace.

“It was a lot fresher than this, but yeah,” Joel had responded, voice barely above a gruff grunt.

“You ever go there?” Ellie continued quizzically. “Before?”

“Not really to Starbucks, but to smaller coffee shops,” Joel answered, voice becoming softer. “My wife liked the local-”

“Your wife?” Ellie perks up, face contorting into a whole new expression of surprise. “You? Married? Dude, why haven’t you said anything?”

Her words fall upon deaf ears, Joel turning from her with a grunt.

A memory of her floats across his vision. The golden rays of the morning sun seeped through the cafe window to cast a warm glow around her. Her cheeks were pulled into a smile, full and rosy, laughing at something Joel had said. His thumb had traced the swell of her soft cheeks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her warm and forgetless eyes shined bright, crinkled in the corners.

The thought of her made his stomach turn.

“Forget it,” he chides in Ellie’s direction. He’d let it slip, the mention of Lianne. He had wanted to bring her up earlier, when he and Tess first met Ellie and she had asked if the two of them were together, or when they first reached Bill and Frank’s. He especially wanted to talk about her when he didn’t know what the fuck to do, and knew that she would have the answer. Wanted to bring her up just to keep the memory of her fresh in his mouth. But he had kept his tongue bit, wanting to keep her separate from this journey, as much as his body and soul ached in longing for her to be beside him. She would know what to do. She would know where to go. As much as she would keep him on his toes, she would be there to keep him grounded and his mind level.

—-

Weeks had turned into months of radio silence. The group that Lianne had left with all that time ago no longer existed; people giving up the fight and dying off. And still no sound of Joel.

Lianne had made it to that safe house in Nebraska about a week ago. In the beginning, she cleared out the town of any infected, ensuring her safety and isolation. Evening passed and morning came - that was the first day.

She spent what was left of the few remaining candles the first night. After a night of cold darkness with no electricity, Lianne had found some more candles in an old store down the road. The main floor of the house glowed warm, dozens of candles lighting the windowsills, climbing the way up the staircase, and above the fireplace mantle.

“Let there be light,” she had whispered to herself, a bitter chuckle escaping in harsh breath. She watched the stars that night, just like she had all those years before. And like those years before, a single satellite traced its endless orbit across the sky. And again, it was a beacon of something that was never changing in an ever changing world. And she wished for Joel.

Evening passed and the morning came - that was the second day.

The walls had begun cramping around her. The boarded up windows seemed to pound at her skull. So she’d found an old hammer and began ripping the boards from the window panes, letting the white sunshine flood the first floor.

The breeze chilled her skin as the sun soaked her bones, and she let herself lay on the wooden floor to bask in the sun. She wanted to find window panes in the old store down the road to replace the no-longer-windows, but installing them wasn’t in her skill set.

That’s a job for Joel, she had thought to herself.

Joel.

And it hit her like a freight car, a tsunami wave crashing over her and pulling her to the bottom. Grief and guilt and pain and sorrow and frustration and guilt and grief and guilt. It ate at her, gnawed at her soul, clean through to her marrow. And she let it eat her, at first. He never left her mind, not for a moment, not for a second. She bargained with herself, any attempt to convince herself that she made the right decision. Joel was still at the QZ, safe and alive and helping Tess.

And then she began to pray. To pray for Joel to be there, to be anywhere. To be there in Nebraska with her, or at the QZ in Boston. Just to be alive, anywhere. She prayed for the will to go back to Boston and find Joel in their apartment, to beg him for forgiveness for letting herself leave without him. To beg him for forgiveness for leaving him.

Evening passed and morning came - that was the third day.

Curtains made from mis-matched and discarded sheets waved in the windowsills, the breeze becoming colder as the winter truly set in. A fire burned constantly under the mantle, and Lianne kept bundled in wool sweaters and a blue suede jacket. She had built a home in the safehouse in Nebraska, a home she often thought that Joel would like to share with her, if they had ever gotten the chance. She sits on the porch, cheeks red from the cold air. Her stomach is full and she is safe.

When she slept at night, she thought of him so hard she swore she could feel his arms wrapped around her, reaching for her through the wall.

And she thought of Sarah. A cavern formed in her chest daring to rip itself in pieces with the emptiness. Longing for those moments in time where the only feared bite was that of a mosquito.

Evening passed and morning came - that was a countless day.

It was the middle of the night when one of them broke in, snarling and rotten and climbing up her with rotten teeth. A hoard had followed, swiftly overtaking the house. The curtains were pulled from the windows with ragged fingernails.

She had tipped the bottles of kerosene over in the fight, drawing the hoard to the center of the house, before making a break to dash outside. She lit the end of a rag soaked in a liquor bottle and threw it to the house. The few that followed her outside were slain in a moment, but she knew more would come. She stood still for a moment, becoming a witness and watching the fire before her. Her feet pushed her tired body through the snow, sprinting westward through the night at an unstoppable pace, her lungs burning and threatening to burst.

Evening passed and morning came - that was the last day.

—

It was the smell he noticed first, nose crinkling at its harshness as he and Ellie walked through the woods. There’s this smell, like rainwater, burnt grass, burning plastic and, rotting wood, rotting… something. The smoke from a burning fire had been wafted through the air and into the woods where the two of them were.

“What’s that smell?” Ellie said, nose turned up in equal disruption. “Is something on fire?”

“Yeah,” Joel responds, a brief cloud of smoke catching his eye above the treeline. It doesn’t hit him at first, a sense of nervousness slowly washing its way over him. It breeches upon him like a warm wave, begging to drag him under. The forceful movement of his legs is the only thing keeping himself from sinking into the feeling.

They break from forest, the treeline receding from them in the background, as they further themselves into a clearing that has since been overgrown with brush. Joel comes to a halt, Ellie almost bumping into his backside with her lack of attention, before she stands right outside his peripheral.

A feeling Joel hasn’t felt in many years overwhelms him. It creeps through him at first, an icy cold freezing its way through the veins of his arms. Paralyzed and eyes wide, his heart thumps heavily in his chest. His eyes scan the doubly deserted town in front of him, the town in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska that he, Tommy, and Lianne had built a safe house in. The safe house that lingered at the edge of the town, just far enough away and just close enough. The safe house that was now a smoldering ash, the roof of it collapsed in on itself, smoke from past flames lingered in a plume.

Joel begins to break through the brushed clearing, Ellie instinctually following him as he pushes his thick legs through the tangled vegetation. She only fell still when Joel’s pacing became incessant, his face locked in a scowl as his brows folded over his eyes, but the whites of his eyes still showed in panic. She stood there watching, helpless, as Joel’s racing mind materialized into endless, pacing circles around the crumbling house.

Charred, black bodies littered the foundation of the exposed house. Joel’s gut began to churn at his inability to tell if they had been infected or not. Or if she could be one of them.

Ellie’s incessant badgering of unrelenting questions barely registered to Joel, her words brushing over him as his ears rang.

“Was your wife supposed to be here?” Ellie called to Joel, and he finally stood still.

His haunched hackles pulled back as he squared his chest, lifting his head taller, as her words finally hit him. His glowered lifelessly into the distance, vision focusing on nothing as the edges of it fuzzed black, before he turned around to march back to Ellie. His shoulder brushed hers, and at his closeness Ellie could finally see the blacks of his eyes.

“We’re done here,” he growled as he pushed past her. And she’s right on his tail again, questions picking back up from where they left off, even though she knew she’d only be answered with silence. But still, she persists.

He continues to march them westward into the dipping sun, not stopping when Ellie begs for him to let them rest for the night. He’s silent, the crunch of dried leaves and feet on hard snow drowning out Ellie’s voice to his deaf ears.

It elicits something in Ellie, the smallest prick of fear not about Joel, but for Joel. When they’d lost Tess, Joel had remained silent until Ellie confronted him, urging him to work out his shit. But now was different; the air around him was hostile, walls never seen before barricading him from her. There was no key to unlock Joel, no way to break down that wall he unknowingly forced back up. The strongest of flames couldn’t lick away at his walls.

With Joel pushing them as far into the night as he can, Ellie fears he might not make it back from this one. It doesn’t get him until the next day, a fearsome grip clasping around his heart and squeezing with a vice so strong it has him gasping for breaths. He’s doubled over, hand resting on a tree as he grips at his jacket in an attempt to relieve his lungs. Ellie’s panicked words are drowned out by the sudden ringing of his ears.

I’m okay, he mumbles repeatedly, trying to convince himself as he levels his breathing.

“But are you okay?” Ellie asks, her voice finally breaking through to him. “Because just a reminder that if you’re dead, I’m fucked.”

Joel only grumbles a response, something that sounds like he’s okay, that it was just the cold air all of a sudden. Ellie watches him rise from the tree, her heart pounding just as quickly as Joel’s. It created a fear in her, one that sparked as a tiny flame in her chest, and she wouldn’t let it grow further than that, not wanting it to burn the whole forest down and take the two of them with it.

—

Joel held his brother in his arms. When Tommy was born, Joel was one of the first to hold him. The immediate sense of protecting and belonging overtook him then, holding his tiny brother in his arms. The world gave Tommy to Joel to protect and to save, and Joel will kill to succeed.

He held his brother in his arms now, again, decades later in the middle-of-nowhere Wyoming. A hug like the first, of love and disbelief, and of never knowing of the chance to do it again. Joel had found his brother, after months of on-foot travel across the country, he found his brother, and the hope that came with it glistened brightly in his eyes.

And now, Tommy was taking care of Joel. Filling his stomach with warm food, welcoming the young girl Joel traveled with with generous hospitality, and letting him relax in the protection of Jackson.

“How ‘bout a tour?” Tommy asks, finally, the question gnawing at him since his brother arrived. Tommy’s wife, Maria, had sat rigid next to him, eyes staring Joel down. The tension rose in him gradually as he watched his brother and Ellie scoop copious amounts of food into their mouths. “Somethin’ I think you’re gonna wanna see.”

Tommy and Maria led the way down the main street of Jackson, Joel and Ellie lingering a few paces behind them as they followed. Dozens of people lined the street, shop owners leaning against the entrances to their stores as they lazily waited for customers. Shouts of children down the street were cheery and free. Joel’s senses were in overdrive, vision becoming tunnel-like as he tried to focus on what Maria was saying.

“So are you, like, in charge?” Ellie speaks up as they pass what Maria told them was a church of multifaith.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria begins to explain. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving 300 people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting. Everything you see in our town… the greenhouses, livestock, is all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, uh,” Joel chirps up. “Communism.”

“Nah,” Tommy lets out with a scoff. “Nah, it ain’t like that.”

“It is that,” Maria interjects matter-of-factly. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy hesitantly looks back at Joel, casting a dejected gaze towards the ground. Joel’s eyes glint with amusement, casting a smirk towards his grimacing brother.

“Tommy!” A voice calls from somewhere behind them. “Wait up a second!”

Joel swears he’s made it up, the voice calling for Tommy only in his head. It’s a voice Joel would know anywhere. Even in death he would have the melodic voice memorized, praying it would be the last sound he heard. It sounded foreign at first, like a long lost memory that lingered on the tip of his tongue leaving a heavenly aftertaste. Only, he heard this voice in his dreams, kept it with him daily in fear of ever forgetting.

Tommy was the first to turn to face the calling of his name, and Joel the second, eyes scanning the town square to see where the possible voice came from.

A woman stands on the other side of the square, hand raised in the air in a wave. Her cheeks are rosy and full, pulled up into a smile, and her eyes twinkle in the sunshine. When she knows Tommy sees her, she turns to quickly finish a conversation with a man next to her before making her way towards them.

When her gaze shifts from Tommy to his brother, she freezes in her tracks, the small smile fading quickly as her face goes pale.

Joel’s heart thuds loudly in his ear and his tunnel vision returns, locking on her. He blinks, convinced she’s a mirage, a hallucination, an angel appearing before him. But she stays planted, and Joel feels faint. A blush creeps along the tips of his cheek, turning him crimson and his neck begins to burn.

He remembers her, all those years ago, an unknowingly frightened thing in the road, eyes glistening as her hands shook with her emptied pistol. How she had been a complete shell of any part of her that used to be.

She stands there, now, put together, and from a distance is seemingly untouched. Her cream, knitted turtleneck stands out compared to the navy canvas jacket that blends in with the darkened buildings of Jackson. Her dark hair curls around her shoulders as if she’s taken the time to put a curling iron to it, scarce strands of silver wisp their way through it.

Her breath had hitched in her throat, before becoming almost ragged as she took small, stuttered gasps.

Their hearts stutter in their chests like two doves in two cages, screaming to be let out. The rhythm pushes against their chests, pulling at their ribs to finally move their feet forward. Joel doesn’t move until she takes her first steps, and his knees buckle under him as he finally steps towards her. His feet land heavily on the ground below, but he feels as if he’s walking on air.

Two waves crash against each other, tectonic plates shifting in the core of the earth, as the two of them finally collide. Limbs wrapping around them, hands latching into place to hold each other close.

“The house-” Joel starts, pulling back to let his eyes desperately search hers as he holds her face in his hands.

“I know,” Lianne gasps. “The radio- You stopped-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Joel whispers, only to her, hands desperately brushing the hair out of her face to make sure she’s still real. “I left a message…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiles the smallest, most gentle smile, and oh, how his world spins. A smile not seen in years, a smile that shines bright, a smile that pulls at her cheeks and pulls the corners of her eyes into crinkles. A smile that has Joel’s eyes shining with the beginning of unfalling tears.

He knew he had no right to touch her, crave her like air, but he did both. And when he put his mouth on hers, he recognized the taste of her, like she’d been made just for him. And he kissed her. He kissed her with all the power he could muster, making up for the months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds their lips hadn’t been touching. And finally, finally, it felt like her world was no longer burning around her. The forest fire within her subdued in his arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her as soon as we got here?” Joel asks Tommy, brows furrowing in mock-frustration, but the curl at the corners of his lips says otherwise.

“Figured we should get some food in ya first,” Tommy says with a slight smile. “Didn’t want the old man collapsin’ on us.”

“We can give you two some time to catch up,” Maria says, her smile friendly but her gaze still hesitant towards Joel. “Make that man get a shower. I’ll take Ellie to our place where she can freshen up, get some warm clothes.”

Joel’s focus remains solely on Lianne, he doesn’t hear Ellie’s quiet and confused protest when she calls out his name.

“You’ll be fine,” he says softly, finally turning his gaze to the young girl. She still stands there, frozen, with Maria gesturing for her to follow. “Go on, you’ll be fine.”

“Wait,” Lianne murmurs, barely above a whisper as her eyes finally connect on Ellie’s hunched figure. Lianne’s eyes gleam in interest as they gauge from the young girl and then back to Joel. She nods to Ellie as she asks, “Who’s this?”

Joel turns, almost too quickly, to look at Ellie. Her face is pale with nervousness, cheeks rosy from the chilled air. She’s looking at Joel with pleading eyes, silently begging him for some kind of reprieve as her thumb picks at her ratted glove.

“Ellie,” Joel says softly, the whisper of a smile in his voice. “Lianne… This is Ellie. Ellie…” Joel’s voice falls short, head turning as he looks back to Lianne to make sure she’s still there. “This is Lianne… my wife.”

“Oh…” Ellie murmurs, brows raising in realization. “Well, shit. You didn’t say she was-”

“Ellie-” Joel grunts at her in disapproval, but the sweetening sound of the laugh from the woman next to him has his gaze pulling to her again. Lianne gently brushes past him, a faint but warm smile radiant on her lips, and gently sticks her hand out as she reaches the young girl.

“Hi, Ellie,” Lianne says gently. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ellie’s voice is barely above a murmur as she greets Lianne in response, eyes casting down towards where their hands meet.

“How’d you get on Joel’s good side?” Lianne asks the young girl, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Ellie only smiles awkwardly, eyes shifting past Lianne towards Joel.

“I’ll explain,” Joel says. “Later.”

Maria approaches Ellie again, continuing to lead her away from Joel and Lianne. Joel only gives Ellie a nod, reassuring her that she’s safe with Maria. Lianne quietly leads Joel back to her house, a house that she can’t help thinking of the possibility of becoming a home with Joel.

“So,” Lianne finally says, a gleam in her eyes as she turns in Joel’s direction. “Who’s Ellie?”

Joel rubs at his hands, thinking of a response to give her. So, he tells her that Ellie’s cargo, some Firefly big-wig’s daughter he’s taking out west. He lies to her, and she knows it. It will have to do, for now.

“Surprised Tess ain’t with y’all,” Lianne responds simply. She teases him by adding, “Before I left, told her to keep you in check while I was gone.”

Joel slows his steps before finally coming to a stop. Lianne continues a few paces before turning back to check on Joel. Her smile fades when she clocks his expression. His brows are furrowed again, eyes not willing to meet hers as he casts them away to his feet. When he finally meets her gaze, his dark eyes are soft and somber, pools of regret swimming through a current to beg for forgiveness. A grip takes its place around his throat, tightening until it choked him.

When his eyes meet hers, she knows Tess is gone. And all she can do is nod.

“How?” She asks.

“Got bit,” Joel finally pulls the words from himself. “Saved me and the kid, though.”

“Good,” Lianne responds again with a nod. “That she saved you.”

Joel nods, too.

“Bill and Frank, too,” Joel says. “Got your message ‘bout you stayin’ there, thought I’d stop by too with the kid after… Tess. See if you’d maybe be there. Bill left a letter.”

Lianne stands quietly for a moment, grinding her teeth and chewing the inside of her lip.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, quietly.

“Me too,” is all she says as she nods again, before turning to lead him further down the street to her house. “Frank was in pretty bad shape when I was there.”

It’s a two-story house, like the one in Austin. Unlike the house in Nebraska, the porch doesn’t wrap all the way around the four sides of the structure. Instead, the dark fencing of the wooden porch is shortened to cover half of the front of the house, stopping where it connects with gray paneling. Another porch matches this one on the back of the house, facing a well-sized backyard and renovated garage. A white picket fence outlines the perimeter of the property, and Lianne had chuckled when she first moved in at the idea of that cherry-pie kind of life.

Lianne leads Joel in through the front door and the smallest hint of clean laundry mixed with old coffee wafts through the air to soak into Joel. It could make him breathless, the trigger of a memory of their home in Austin flashing briefly before him, only to be replaced by the dim surroundings of this unfamiliar structure.

“Do you, uh, wanna shower or anything?” Lianne finally speaks, scratching mindlessly at a spot on her cheek. “Not sayin’ you need one or anything.”

“‘S a good idea,” he replies quietly. “I’d appreciate that.”

Lianne only nods and leads him up the staircase to the second floor. She pushes a door open on the right, and a sunlit room with a simple spread is on the other side. A bed with linen sheets and a blue patterned quilt, a pile of worn clothes tossed over a chair in the corner.

Her bed is made, only one side sloped in and the edges ruffled, while the other side lay perfectly neat and barren. A side saved for him.

“I feel like all this ain’t really mine,” she says, almost as if she’s explaining her tidiness. “Gotta keep it lookin’ nice for Maria.”

Joel chuckles softly, a whisper of a laugh, watching her sweep a hand over the quilt to soothe out a wrinkle, before she’s back in front of him.

“So,” she starts again. “Who really is Ellie?”

“She’s immune,” the words are out of his mouth before he can even think to hold them in. His eyes widen in panic, while Lianne’s stay calm and curious.

“To what?” She asks, just a breath away from a confused chuckle.

But Joel stays silent, and her brow furrows.

“She’s immune,” she repeats his words slowly back to him.

“It was Marlene,” Joel starts, mouth moving faster than his braind. “She hired us to smuggle her to some Fireflies. I’ve seen the bite on her arm. I’ve seen her get bitten. And that was months ago. She’s immune.”

Lianne only stares at him, his words rolling through her head like a pearl. He can see the gears turning behind her eyes, the scale of judgment of belief or disbelief. His heart pounds in his chest, that fear coming over him again in an icy grip.

“Okay,” Lianne replies. Her voice is soft, eyes warm again as she looks up at Joel. “So what’s next?”

“I don’t know,” Joel breathes, the words falling from him on a gasp.

“Okay,” she says again.

She reaches instinctively to help Joel from his canvas jacket, fingers gently pulling the fabric from him as if the slightest move would spook him like a wounded animal. His gaze follows her movements, soft eyes never blinking her away as he continues to track her. She finally slips the sleeves off his wrists, and the broad expanse of his shoulders takes her breath away. When she finally looks up to meet his eyes, they reflect that same longing and lonesome she’s found herself in since September. The softness of his dark eyes remind her of October, of a chill that can only be subdued by the warmth of him.

She puts her hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. Joel had always gotten lost in the kisses shared between them, but never quite like this, like a fever taking its grip. And then, the space between them explodes. His heart keeps missing beats and his hands cannot bring her close enough to him. He tastes her and realizes he’s been starving and it burns him alive.

Maybe it lasts a minute, maybe it’s an hour. Joel only knows this kiss, how soft her skin is when it brushes against his, and that even if he did not know it until now, he had been and would continue waiting for her forever.

“I should shower first,” Joel whispers as he forces himself away from her lips. His forehead remains pressed heavily against hers, just as his fingers dig into her hips.

“I don’t care,” she whispers back, latching herself onto him once more before he can pull further away.

His hands are back on her, cupping her face to hold her closer, breathing her in, trying to clear away the fear that she’s not real. She maneuvers them closer to the bed, Joel shoving off her blue suede jacket as her hands push and pull and search across his flannel. Her hands only leave him to pull her turtleneck off and throw it to the floor, revealing a haphazardly buttoned white blouse.

Closer to the bed, she’s pushing him gently to sit, and he obliges. In quick timing, but not quick enough for Joel, she straddles him. His hands immediately land on her waist, strong and heavy, and he pulls her closer on his lap. His hands lose themselves in her hair, entwining themselves with it to pull her into his mouth.

She kisses him ravenously, the want of each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound.

She wondered if he had hated her, when she first left Boston. If he hated her for leaving him there alone, no family but Tess, without the only thing to keep fighting for. If he hated her for her short and shitty messages she left him, or the shitty excuse she gave when she left. She wondered if he hated her, and prayed that she’d never know the answer.

She pulls the white button-up tauntingly slowly from her shoulders, the warm sun illuminating her exposed chest as he watches her. A stab of hunger came over him, and he found nourishment in the very sight of her. The blouse drops to the floor behind her, and her chest expands with a pull of wanton air.

His fingers reach up, ghosting along the skin of her chest to leave goosebumps in their wake. He has to drag his eyes to meet hers, and when she sees them they’re black and hungry. His hands wrap around her waist, eyes never leaving hers, as he grips her close to him and flips her over onto her back. She’s pinned between him and the mattress like a flower pressed in a book.

His lips are on her chest, hungry, wet kisses covering the skin there. He loved her like a rotten dog, drooling and painting and messy. Loved her like his canines were falling out of his gums; like a monster, like a beast.

She’s wrestled him out of his clothes, the tip of his throbbing cock nudging against the inside of her thigh. He had rocked himself into her hundreds of times, thousands even. Each time different from the last, and just as good as the first. It presses into her wetness, and he holds back from sinking his teeth into her. He could let go right now, just having her underneath him again. She keens for him, hips begging to be split.

Their bones whisper to each other: Where have you been?

I’ve been lost but I’m here now. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.

His body is on fire, a fever taking over him as he finds himself nestled within her. The tip of him kisses the deepest part of her, over and over, and she’s panting beneath him. Her hands latch themselves in his hair, grounding herself to him as he loses himself in her.

The air is hot and sticky, suffocating in the small space between them. The airway is narrow, any breath reaching their lungs a soothing relief.

She says his name, over and over, like it’s the only word written on the pages. Three more heavy thrusts and she’s undone, unbinding herself as she comes around him. Her hand claws into his shoulder, pushing him away and holding him close. Sharp gasps are pushed from her chest, and he breathes them into himself as he rests his cheek against her own. Her back arches, breasts pushing further into his chest. Her pussy squeezes his cock, and the haze in her eyes has him coming inside her.

He nestles his cheek against her chest, hips coming to a slow still as he stays inside her. A lazy hand runs through his hair, the sweat-damp strands cooling to her rough fingers. They let each other rest, soaking each other in, leaving mindless kisses on each other’s skin.

He finally pushes himself off of her, taking the weight off her chest. He rolls to his side away from her and runs a hand down his face. A soft chuckle comes from her behind him, and he looks over his shoulder to see her flushed state. A smirk grows across his face, and she runs her hand down the length of his back. When her hand leaves him, she pulls her arm back to herself, a solemn look overtaking her features.

Joel’s smirk drops, a slight frown creasing his brows.

“What?” He calls to her softly.

“I just want to forget,” she says quietly, arms crossing over her stomach.

“What do you want to forget?” he asks, voice soft as he still looks at her over his shoulder, fingers reaching out to trace the edge of her face.

Everything. She wants to forget ever leaving Joel, every moment that had passed without him near her. She only wanted to know Joel, to breathe Joel, to feel Joel.

He watches her eyes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her swollen lips, eyes never leaving her face.

“How can you even forgive me?” She whispers, and he pulls away from her only to look in her eyes, nose bumping gently against hers, and her chin tips up achingly for the return of his lips. He drags his lips to her forehead, planting a kiss on her damp skin.

“Because I thought about you,” Joel responds. “Every day and every night. You know there’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive you for.”

His lips return to her skin, nipping gently at the skin of her jaw. She was his darling, never to be unloved by him, too well tangled with his soul.

And they make love again - Lianne used to say as she would tease Joel in fake mockery at his use of the term - until the room became golden and the sun hung lower in the sky, hot tears slipping from the edges of her eyes down to her ears to make their home on the pillow. Until she was able to forget.

—

Tommy had been the one to interrupt their brief bubble of paradise, his fists knocking on the front door and luring the two of them down the staircase. That’s how Joel found himself sitting in a bar, the Tipsy Bison, running his hands over the wooden counter, his girl sat at his side while his brother poured him a drink, for the first time in since who knows when.

“Been a long time,” Joel murmurs, mostly to himself, as he continues to admire the handiwork of the bar top.

“So, what’s up with the kid?” Tommy asks, unable to hold in his curiosity.

Joel takes a sip from the glass in front of him, the bite of it burning down his throat with a wince.

“Tryna find her family somewhere out here,” another lie. “I was headin’ in this direction anyway, so…”

“Really?” Tommy asks, brows raising in surprise. “Goodness of your heart?”

Joel stares aimlessly into his glass, and Lianne shifts in her seat next to him before swallowing her drink.

“There’s a payment,” Joel says gruffly. “So, you know where they might be? These Fireflies?”

Tommy shakes his head slightly at his older brother, the smallest hint of disbelief laced across his face.

“Well,” Tommy starts with a sigh. “Heard they got a base down at the University of Eastern Colorado. It’s a week’s ride south. But it is severely fucked up between here and there. Infected… Raiders… It’s not exactly an easy trip.”

“It’ll be easy for us,” Joel says immediately, looking between Lianne and his brother who remains behind the bar. “Seeing as how you can headshot infected from half a mile away. Which is a bunch of bullshit, by the way.”

Tommy finally takes a slow, long sip of his drink, gulping it down harshly with gritted teeth. He slowly shakes his head.

“Yeah, I can’t go,” he says slowly, eyes peering up through his lashes at his brother, afraid of his reaction.

“Oh, come on,” Joel persists. “I made it across the country. The three of us can make it from here to Colorado.”

Tommy only sighs, looking briefly at Lianne with eyes pleading for help.

“Hey,” Joel says harshly, getting Tommy’s attention back on her. “What, cause your wife won’t let you?”

“Joel,” Lianne’s voice calls to him from his side, a warning in her voice to cool it down.

“She the one that kept you off the radio? Is that why you stopped messaging me back?” Joel presses.

“They’re good people,” Tommy finally interjects. “Didn’t have to take me in, but they did. All they ask is that we follow their rules. They’re very protective of this place, is all. And for good fuckin’ reason.”

“No, I heard,” Joel bites. “Wrong people might show up… Is that what I am? Am I the wrong people?”

“Joel,” Lianne warns again, this time with a sigh.

“Those things I did,” Joel can’t help the river of relentless words that spill from him. “Tommy, those things that you judge me for, I did those things to keep us alive.”

“We did those things,” Tommy agrees. “But they weren’t ‘things.’ We murdered people. And I don’t judge you for it. We survived the only way we knew how, but there were other ways. We just weren’t any good at ‘em.”

Joel rubs a hand down his face, rubbing the gruff hair that lines his jaw. When he opens his mouth to respond, Tommy interjects.

“I’m gonna be a father,” Tommy says, letting it out as if he had been holding his breath.

And Joel freezes. He lets his head drop, letting it shake back and forth as he lets out a scoff. Tommy’s face turns red, and his jaw clicks as he squints his eyes at Joel.

“You know what?” Tommy says harshly. “Just because life stopped for you… Doesn’t mean it has to stop for me.”

Lianne snaps her attention towards Tommy, mirroring him in a squint of disbelief. Joel only remains silent. His eyes go cold as he swallows the rest of his drink, the glass landing heavily back onto the countertop as he pushes himself up from his stool.

“We’ll grab some supplies and be outta your hair in the mornin’,” he grunts before pushing his way to the door of the bar.

Lianne stays planted, gaze remaining piercing on Tommy. His head is hung lowly in instant regret, eyes peering up to meet Lianne’s gaze. Neither of them say anything, and Lianne has to steady herself from flaring smoke from her ears. She pushes herself from her spot at the bar, making her way to follow Joel.

“Lianne,” Tommy calls after her.

“Don’t,” she stops him, boots heavy on the wooden floorboards as she continues her way outside.

Joel isn’t far from the entrance of the bar when she finds him. He’s bent over, hand gripping the wooden post of a street light right outside the bar. Lianne’s pace quickens as she approaches him, her heart dropping to her stomach when she sees the pale state of him. He’s breathing heavily, fast and gasping breaths fogging in the Jackson sunlight.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lianne murmurs, immediately resting her hand on his back. “Joel, what’s going on?”

Joel’s hand that’s gripping his chest latches on to her, finding the nearest part of her to bring her closer and hold himself steady. His eyes were glazed, but the tears from the stinging cold kept them sparkling in the sun. He can’t hear her ask if he’s okay, the panic slicing through her voice, his ears ringing again as they did in the woods. Her hand replaces where his was pressed on his chest as she begins to rub soothing circles, trying to get him to stand upright to better get breath in his lungs. She watches his eyes, noticing their locked on something further away, so she follows his gaze. When his breathing finally steadies, Lianne catches a glimpse of a head of dark curly hair amongst a group of people further down the way, and her breath hitches for a moment. The woman in the town center bends down, handing something to a little girl with the same hair. Lianne’s heart breaks when she turns back to Joel.

“I thought the same thing when I first got here,” she says softly, watching Joel take full breaths. “But she really doesn’t look anything like her.”

“She could’ve, though,” Joel finally says, and it breaks Lianne further.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she whispers.

“I’m okay,” he says, trying to reassure himself. “It’s okay.”

—

Later in the night, the two of them found themselves in a tiny storefront, renovated into a shoe repair shop that was almost always empty. Joel had wanted to fix his torn boots himself, the soul of them peeling from the bottom to reveal his toes. Lianne had insisted she could trade something for a better pair for him, but he refused and refused, insisting he could fix them himself. Joel hadn’t seen Ellie all day, accidentally allowing her to get scooped up by Maria and roped in to a community movie night at the town’s center.

A swift breeze of the cold night air swept through the store as the door opened, a bell jingling as Tommy appeared through the threshold. He smiled awkwardly as he approached the couple, his shoulders tense as he kept them close to his ears and his hands in his pockets. Lianne turned to return his smile before resuming her watchful position on Joel.

“The guys said I might find you here,” Tommy says as he continues his way over to them, steps slow with caution as he approaches his brother.

Joel looks up to look at his brother, but quickly resumes the work on his boots.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Tommy continues with a sigh. “I don’t even believe it. It’s complicated for you… And I’m sorry.”

Joel stays silent, this time giving a look to Lianne who quirks an eyebrow at him in return.

“So you gonna let me off the hook, or what?” Tommy presses.

“This ride to the university,” Joel speaks up suddenly. “Is it a suicide mission?”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away. He looks to Lianne, his composure slightly taken aback in the shift of conversational direction.

“No…” Tommy starts slowly. “It’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.”

“You’ve had people go that way and come back?” Joel asks again.

Tommy nods. “All of ‘em,” he responds, crossing his hands over his chest. “What is this?”

And Joel tells him, from the beginning. That the leader of the Fireflies hired him and Tess to smuggle her out. After Tess, it was just the two of them. And in Kansas City, Ellie had to save Joel. His face fell suddenly, paling at the memory, eyes growing glassy with tears. He froze then, words coming to a halt, just as he did that afternoon. Just as he did in Kansas City.

“I was so afraid,” he mutters. “I’m not who I was. I’m weak.”

It takes everything in Lianne to not break at the sight, to hold his sweet face in her hands and kiss away the worries. Her heart thrums loudly in her chest, drowning out the sounds of Joel’s words as he continues.

“You want me to take her,” Tommy says, face soft in understanding.

“I’m just gonna get her killed,” Joel says, voice breaking as he forces the words from his mouth. “I know it. I have to leave her.”

Tommy and Lianne share a knowing look, the conversation having gone in a direction they are too familiar with.

“This is your chance to bring your kid into a better world,” Joel continues, eyes pleading and voice begging. “You’re younger than me, still strong. You said it yourself, you’ll come back. You have to take her.”

Tommy sighs, looking around the room before his eyes fall to the floor.

“Tommy, you’re the only one I trust. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you, I swear.”

Tommy looks back to his brother, then to his brother’s wife. She looks equally as broken as Joel, her gaze never leaving him, with her lips turned in a hard frown.

“I’ll take her out at dawn,” Tommy replies.

Back in the house, voices are raised behind the walls, anger laced and spitting with venom. And all Lianne can do is pace her bedroom. She chews on the nail of her thumb, heart pounding as she waits for Joel to return to the room. The voices grow louder, until they’re finally silent.

A door slams, and heavy footsteps grow louder as they step down the hallway.

The door to Lianne’s room swings open, Joel’s gaze falling on her as her pacing comes to a stop. He slowly closes the door, latching it softly behind him.

He slowly brushes past her, squeezing her hand in passing, before planting himself on the edge of the bed. His head hangs, his hands rubbing circles into his eyes as he rests them on his knees.

“Joel,” she says quietly, kneeling in front of him. Her hands rest on his knees before coming up to rub along the length of his arms.

“I have you,” Joel says suddenly, his eyes pleading to her, his voice trying to convince himself. “That’s all I need.”

“I don’t think that’s as true anymore, Joel,” she says softly, a knowing gleam in her eyes, and his gaze falls to his lap. “You need that little girl, Joel. Just as much as she needs you. You gotta see this through with her.”

“I just got you back,” Joel replies, voice cracking under the weight of his words. “I can’t leave you again. Ain’t lettin’ you outta my sight.”

Her crumpled face mirrors his own, eyes glossy and brows furrowed, as she takes his face in her hands. The rough pad of her thumb ghosts over the dry skin of his cheek, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the feeling.

“Then I’ll come with you,” Lianne says, her words definitive. “If you’re sure that’s what you’d need, I’ll go with you.”

He takes her hands from his face, running over the lines of her palm that etch across her skin before softly planting his lips onto her calloused palms.

Lianne laid on her stomach, head fuzzy with sleep. Joel’s hand was splayed on her back, resting lightly above her hip. But he was ridgid next to her. The quiet of Jackson made his head buzz, the ceiling above him swirled in his vision.

She rolled her head towards him, a soft hum radiating from her as she pulled herself closer to his warm body.

“Sleep,” she mumbled, pulling him into her. “It’s safe here.”

She knew what he was feeling, a bit all too well. Like the walls would fall away and they would be back in the middle of the woods, exposed to the elements and the Infected, one twig snap away from a nearing death.

“You can sleep,” she says. “Sleep in my arms.”

He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. But there was something different about him after all their time apart. A man changed, a man who now had less anger in his heart. An anger that had festered for so long, entwining itself with him, that had now been replaced by something all together different. She wanted to cling to his shirt, bury her face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go. She kissed his neck and shoulders, feeling faint from loving him so much.

Lianne woke up while it was still dark. Joel had only stirred briefly as she left the bed, quickly falling back asleep once he heard the running water of the shower, the smell of her lingering on her pillow lulling him to sleep.

It was the toss of her towel on her empty spot in the bed that jerked him awake, eyes snapping wide as he remained frozen. His side of the bed dipped behind his back as her fingers ran softly down his arm. He turned with a groan, reaching out to land his hand on her waist.

“Get a groove on, Miller,” she said softly, hand now brushing the hair from his face.

“‘Time is it?” He groaned again. “‘S still dark.”

“Almost dawn,” Lianne replies in the quiet of the dark. “So get up, get dressed. We’re goin’ to the stables.”

That was half an hour ago. The golden sunrise had begun to creep over the snow-capped mountains. Joel’s breath lingered in the morning air as he contemplated Lianne’s decision.

“I just ain’t sure about this,” he says, hands still adjusting the straps of the saddle.

“At least give her the choice,” Lianne tries to persuade.

Only another moment of silent shuffling passes before the crunches of footfall approach the stable. Tommy and Ellie round the corner, and the young girl stops in her tracks when she sees Joel, a look of disdain weaved over her.

“You came here to say goodbye, or something?” Ellie tosses sharp words in Joel’s direction.

“No,” Joel says as he grinds the toe of his boot into the dirt. “We came here to steal these horses and go.”

“I would’ve given you one,” Tommy chirps with a soft shrug.

“I know,” Joel says, still keeping his eyes to the ground. “Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess…”

His voice trails off when he finally raises his eyes to Ellie. Her glare is sharp and her jaw is set.

“You deserve a choice,” he finally says. “I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-”

His words are cut off as Ellie shoves her sleeping bag into his arms.

“Let’s go,” she says bluntly.

Joel nods slowly, a soft and assured okay leaving his lips. He helps Ellie up onto his horse, letting her take the reins as he leads them out of the stable. Lianne follows behind on a horse of her own as they head to Jackson’s main gate.

Tommy gives the three of them directions to the interstate, a small yet knowing smile on his face as he says goodbye to his brother.

Lianne travels quietly alongside Joel and Ellie, taking in the rambling conversations of the young girl and Joel’s short but giving answers to her. Ellie’s convinced him to teach her how to shoot the rifle Tommy gave them, and to Lianne’s unsurprised surprise, Joel has given in to the young girl.

The three of them find themselves in a small, grassy opening off the side of the road. Joel’s set up a target a few dozen yards away with some old socks stuffed with grass, the word ASSHOLE written on it for encouragement. Ellie complains and complains, saying the target’s too small, or the rifle doesn’t aim right. Joel rolls his eyes, arching his brow in discontempt at Lianne who gives him an amused smile. Joel takes the rifle from Ellie, willing to prove it’s just a skill issue. He talks her through the process, words slow and heavy as he readies himself.

“You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie asks with a smug smirk, and Lianne can’t help but chuckle quietly from the otherside of Joel. Again, Joel raises his glance to Lianne, a look of disappointment that can’t be wiped from him as Lianne nudges him knowingly with her elbow.

Joel readies himself behind the rifle again, and not a second later has a hole blasted through ASSHOLE. Ellie drops the binoculars she was holding in disbelief, the smug smirk once on her face completely gone and transferred to Joel.

“You dick,” she hisses slowly.

The three continue on horseback, the sun lowering in the sky. Ellie had braved enough to ask Lianne about herself, who she was before the outbreak, how she met Joel (which Joel changed topics immediately), which Ellie followed up with asking Lianne what her role was in the Boston QZ.

Lianne found herself happy to answer Ellie’s questions, giving as much of herself to her as she could. The feeling of making up for lost time had taken hold of her thoughts, feeling she needed to be on the same level of Joel in connection to the young girl.

A warm yellow silhouetted the three, riding over rolling hills and dipping into shallow valleys. Lianne rode ahead of them, stopping atop a high mound of land to take in the sunset. Joel stopped next to her, crinkled eyes softening as he watched her. She sat content on her horse, warm sun dripping off her like honey. She turned to him, cheeks pulling into an equally warm smile as her cheeks rosened. Joel couldn’t help but mirror her smile, and when Ellie peeked out to Lianne from behind Joel, the young girl joined them in a toothy smile.

Ellie could be the hope for all humanity, hope for the future of the world. But the three of them right here, in this sunset, was all the hope Lianne found she needed.

#pd fic #preacher's daughter #Joel miller #Joel miller x female oc #the last of us #Joel miller fic #Joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal characters #Pedro pascal #Joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #Joel miller angst #Joel miller fluff #Ellie williams #Sarah miller #Tommy miller #Joel miller x reader

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